


Danse Macabre

by Aurum_Auri



Series: Serial Killer Victuuri AU [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Asshole Ex, Attempted Sexual Assault, Codependency, Elements of psychological grooming, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Infidelity, Light BDSM, M/M, Mindfuck, Minor Character Death, Murder, Murder Husbands, NO INFIDELITY BETWEEN VICTUURI, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Pregnancy Kink, Rope Bondage, Serial Killer Victor Nikiforov, Suicidal Thoughts/Actions, VICTOR DOES NOT RAPE YUURI EVER, Victor does not beat/rape Yuuri, blood/gore, implied infidelity, mentions of knifeplay, scary tags but not as scary as it sounds, sex as self harm, short term Yuuri/OC, soft dark Victor Nikiforov, soft dark Yuuri Katsuki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2020-11-22 03:29:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 110,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20867456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurum_Auri/pseuds/Aurum_Auri
Summary: Yuuri lived his life as quietly as a principal dancer could, unwilling to rock the boat. He was happy. Or so he thought, anyway. When he finds himself in the clutches of an infamous serial killer, everything he thought he knew suddenly is called into question.  As he wakes from his nightmare, he is forced to confront himself: either becoming the monster he may be turning into, or embracing the freedom of a life he never dreamed he could live.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is both a warning and a promise, that the first few chapters will be a bit painful and angsty, but the ending is definitely going to be a happy one. This I swear to you. Please bear with me, and things will slowly be revealed along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter: Victor is.... a bit of a creep xD don't worry he gets better I promise

**April 10, 2019**

Yuuri Katsuki was going to die. 

Victor Nikiforov held the gun loosely in his hands. He stroked his slender fingers over it like it was a beloved pet instead of an instrument of murder, cold steel gleaming in the low light of the room. He pointed it at Yuuri’s head, his voice level and his eyes narrowed. He said only one word in a voice like ice:

“Dance.”

* * *

**March 6, 2019**

Yuuri was 21 when he met Bradley Chadeau. 

He was still new to America, lost in the sights and sounds and the thrill of a world entirely unlike home. His visa was barely a week old. He was going to be a dancer, and Bradley was his ticket to stardom. In two short years, Yuuri couldn’t believe the direction his life had gone. He was the principal danseur in the troupe. He was in a relationship with the man of his dreams. 

Bradley made him happy, showered him with affection. They weren’t a perfect couple, but Yuuri was always desperate to be better, do better for the man who had brought him to this point.

Yuuri’s meteoric rise to fame was unreal. It still didn’t feel like it had happened. When Yuuri danced, the audience fell away. Stage makeup and tights covered the bruises on his skin. His sore muscles were swiftly forgotten. The stage was where Yuuri felt free. 

There was a time when the stage was where he was most afraid, where anxiety crippled him almost to the point where people thought he’d hurt himself. But the world was cold, and dancing was the only place where Yuuri could tell the stories in his heart. Bradley tried to understand, he did. He was a good man despite his flaws. But Yuuri could only open his heart up for the stage. Only the stage and the blinding stage lights knew the secrets Yuuri carried. 

The curtain fell on the final night of La Sylphide, and Yuuri wiped the tears from his eyes before the other dancers could see. Beside him, a young lady straightened from her final bow. Her olive skin was dewy with sweat and she flashed Yuuri a smile. “That was the best show yet, Yuuri!”

“It was,” Yuuri agreed, almost breathless. Sara made for a beautiful sylph. It made it easy to slip into the lovelorn role of James, the young scottish farm boy that falls for her. “I saw Michele in the audience. Did you get him a ticket?”

Sara nodded, violet eyes gleaming in the low lights behind the curtain. “My brother would come to every show, even if I didn’t give him a ticket. Did Bradley show up?”

Yuuri shook his head. “He had to work late tonight again. It’s alright, he’s busy this time of year.”

“Yuuri Katsuki?” a man said. He was dressed in the all-black uniform of a stagehand. In his arms, he carried a positively massive bouquet. “Delivery for you.”

Sara squealed. “Ah, Yuuri, it’s gorgeous! Who’s it from, who’s it from?” 

“I’m not sure,” Yuuri said. Bradley hadn’t sent him flowers since… Yuuri pushed it quietly from his mind. He peered at the card tucked away in the bouquet. “From a secret admirer?” He let out a little laugh. “Must have been someone in the audience.”

“Well if you don’t want it, I’ll take it,” Sara teased, though she looked shocked when Yuuri dumped the bouquet into her arms with a wink. 

“This will drive Michele wild, won’t it,” Yuuri said. Sara laughed, clutching the bouquet a bit tighter. 

“You’re evil, this is perfect.” She handed them back to the stagehand with a smile. “Take these back to my room and put them in water?” The stagehand nodded and carried the flowers off. “Thank you so much! By the way, Yuuri, the others are going out later for drinks to celebrate. Join us?”

“Ah, I shouldn’t, Bradley worries when I’m out late,” Yuuri said. “I should be getting back. Have a nice night, though!” He waved and stepped away, picking his way to the dressing room. 

* * *

**March 8, 2019**

“That’s the last time you saw her alive?” the officer said.

Yuuri stared ahead, numb. It had happened two nights ago, but it still felt fresh in his mind. He nodded slowly. “I went back to my dressing room, then went home. I thought… I thought she went out drinking. I thought-” his voice cracked.

“It’s okay, son, take a breath. Do you need anything to drink?” Yuuri glanced around the sterile room. It looked like the interrogation rooms from procedural dramas, except the doors stood open and the officers around him were quite accommodating. 

He shook his head. “No,” he said. His voice sounded rough when he spoke. He turned his eyes up to the officer who was speaking with him. “It… it was my fault. I heard on the news that the flowers… they had a drug of some kind in them, right? I should have never let her have them-”

“Mr. Katsuki, calm down, it’s not your fault,” the officer said. She pushed him back into his chair, watching him for any sign that he might stand back up again. He didn’t. He didn’t even realize he’d stood up. 

His lower lip wobbled. He could barely hold himself back again. It was entirely his fault, and he knew it. 

“You had no way of knowing the Arabesque Killer would be here, Mr. Katsuki.”

“I should have done something!” Yuuri hissed. His palms were wet. He forced himself to unclench his fists and found his nails had bitten into his palms, spilling his own blood. “She’s gone.”

It was almost impossible to say the words. Yuuri could only imagine how much harder it was for Michele, who had been the one to identify the body early this morning. Or even for the complete strangers who had stumbled across the body twisted into a mockery of a bow, her legs shattered and crammed into pointe shoes. 

“We’re doing everything we can to find the person responsible for the deaths. You’re safe now, Mr. Katsuki. Leave everything to us.” The officer stood up, patting Yuuri on the shoulder. Her head bowed toward another officer. Their conversation was too quiet to make out specific words. 

Yuuri remembered Michele’s eyes swimming in tears, the color identical to Sara’s, and the way he looked at Yuuri like the world had just ended. Yuuri remembered how broken his voice was, like he’d been crying all morning. He remembered Michele’s words, “It should have been you.”

It was late in the evening before they let him leave. Their questions had been exhausted long ago. The story was simple: Sara had never shown up for celebratory drinks. Her brother had wondered where she was and found only flowers in her dressing room. Two days later, and the missing Sara Crispino had been found. 

The words echoed in Yuuri’s head. _ It should have been you. _

Yuuri choked, stumbling as he walked. Home wasn’t far away. The apartment he shared was within walking distance of the station. Yuuri didn’t feel like being around people right now, especially not an Uber driven by some chit-chatty busybody gossiping about murdered dancers. It was dark when Yuuri opened the door. “I’m home… I’m sorry I’m late. Please don’t be upset.” Bradley’s breath smelled strongly of liquor as he approached.

Yuuri closed the door and his eyes. 

Weeks bled away painfully slowly. They started rehearsing a new program that would take them through the spring/summer season. The new woman who took Sara’s place, Rebecca, didn’t have quite the same grace, and when Yuuri lifted her, they lacked the same cohesion that he had with his departed friend. 

He lost his footing, and the woman rounded on him, fury in her eyes. “You call yourself the principal dancer? Don’t you dare stumble like that when you lift me.”

Yuuri bit back a sharp reply. She was the new one here, but Yuuri was the one who was distracted. “I’m sorry, I’ll do better next time. Let’s take five.”

“Take as long as you want,” Rebecca scoffed. “That attitude won’t make you improve. And tell your girlfriend she better not leave hickeys like those during show time, they’re disgusting.”

Yuuri glared into his water bottle. His hand trembled faintly, and Yuuri clutched it with his other hand, willing it to steady itself. “I’ll be back,” he said softly. 

It looked like he needed to add a bit more dermablend to his morning routine. He’d been sweating a lot and he already needed to touch up the makeup he had used to cover the bruises on his neck. When he coughed, pain raked up and down his throat, lingering soreness making itself known. 

He eyed the chair in his dressing room. How much would it hurt to take a seat? He’d been on his feet since before dawn, and he was exhausted. He decided against it. His new dance partner was right. Yuuri needed to be practicing more if he wanted to maintain his spot as the principal danseur. He was already slipping. 

He fumbled his phone out, hastily calling. “Hey, is it okay if I stay late and practice tonight?”

“Stay late?” Bradley said. He laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous, babe. We have reservations tonight.”

“Ah, right,” Yuuri said flatly. 

“Be home by six, babe. I’ll see you tonight.”

Yuuri hummed, the line disconnecting before he could answer. He mumbled into a dead line, “See you tonight.”

* * *

**April 10, 2019**

“Dance,” Victor Nikiforov said in a cold voice. 

Yuuri’s body shook as he looked down the barrel of the gun. His body was aching from hunger. How long had it been since he’d eaten anything? It had been days, and that was before he’d been plucked off the street. His body was too weak to even rise off the ground. 

“I- I can’t-” he said. Victor’s thumb caressed the barrel. He cocked the gun, eyes sparkling. 

“You can, if you want to live.”

Yuuri felt a strange calm wash over him. His tense muscles went lax, and his tears slowly dried. He looked up at Victor. “What makes you think I want to live?” he asked. He tried to rise to his feet, but like a puppet with cut strings, he fell limp to the floor.

Everything went dark. 

* * *

**March 12, 2019**

Yuuri remembered Sara’s funeral vividly. The casket had only been half open throughout the wake, the lower half of it closed to hide her legs. 

Michele cried over his twin the entire time, a lost half that would never again be whole. Their parents were a mess. Sara had been stolen away from the best part of her life.

_ It should have been you. _

Yuuri looked away from the casket as it was lowered into the ground. The number of people present for the burial was remarkable. Sara was a beloved dancer and popular among theater goers. She had many friends and a sizeable family. Yuuri didn’t even recognize most of the people here. 

One by one, people tossed waxy red roses onto the coffin: a man with a large belly and sad eyes that Yuuri knew was Sara’s uncle; an aging woman that Yuuri recognized as the largest individual donor to the theater, a true patron of the arts; a youthful, silver haired man that Yuuri swore he had seen before, with eyes like the summer sky.

Yuuri blinked away tears, clutching at Bradley’s suit jacket for comfort. His hands were brushed away. “Careful, don’t wrinkle it.”

“Sorry,” Yuuri breathed. He stepped forward and tossed his rose into the hole in the ground. Michele glared at him from across the grave.

* * *

**April 2, 2019**

“You’re slipping,” Yuuri told himself. 

The figure in the mirror looked drawn and pale. The bruises on his neck stood out, some yellowed and old, some fresh. Yuuri buttoned the shirt to his throat, hiding them away. 

“You can do better,” Yuuri said. “You have to do better.”

Bradley was drunk and passed out on the floor. Yuuri slipped out the door and into the night. He kept his key in hand as he walked briskly to the theater, taking barely a moment to let himself in. He was coated in a sheen of sweat when the others arrived. They fell into place around him. 

Nothing was the same after Sara died. There was an edge between everyone in the room that no amount of work could diffuse. Even when they were unwinding after a long practice, there was a hesitation between everyone. 

No one spoke to Yuuri, and that was fine. Yuuri didn’t want to talk to them anyway. “You’re clumsy today,” he told himself.

He’d stay late tonight and pay the price later. 

* * *

**April 7, 2019**

If Yuuri’s rise was meteoric, then his fall was quiet, like a butterfly with a hole punched in its wings. Insignificant. Fading. 

It became harder to move each day, and yet each day he pushed himself harder and harder. Opening night was so close. It had to be perfect. Yuuri couldn’t accept anything less than the best. It was what others expected of him. 

Food was tasteless, and he couldn’t bring himself to eat. 

If it wasn’t even better than their last show, Bradley would-

-be unhappy.

Yuuri didn’t want that. He had to be better, do better, work harder than ever. His feet bled. His muscles ached. At night, he could barely breathe from how badly he wanted this, what little time he spent trying to sleep. 

He collapsed on stage the day before opening night. No one even noticed for several long minutes. He had slumped in a quiet corner of the stage, while the others kept moving. He missed his cue, the director screamed, and a brief search ensued. 

The hospital told him to drink more fluids and rest. He lost a few precious hours as they pushed an IV he didn’t need. Bradley drummed his fingers irritably on the edge of the hospital bed. “This is a waste of time.”

“I need to get back to practice,” Yuuri agreed. “The show opens tomorrow, I have to make sure I’m ready.”

“You’ll be free to go back as soon as we finish up here,” the nurse clucked. She tapped the IV bag with her finger, checking how far along it was. “Should be just a few more minutes. Mr. Chadeau, would you be able to step into the hallway for a moment?”

“Anything you tell Yuuri you can say to me,” he said.

The nurse waved him off, rolling her eyes. “It isn’t like that. We just had a few papers at the front desk for you to sign. It would help get the both of you out of here faster.”

“Whatever,” Bradley scoffed, shoving his hands into his pockets. He shuffled out of the room. The nurse waited for the door to close before she tipped her head at Yuuri. Her eyes were soft. “No one’s ever been too rough on you without your consent, right?”

Yuuri blinked, tense as a bowstring. “What?”

“We noticed some bruising on you while we were hooking up the IV. Your relationship with Mr. Chadeau, it’s fully consensual? I just wanted to-”

“He doesn’t hurt me,” Yuuri said quickly. His hands were shaking from agitation. “Don’t be ridiculous- he wouldn’t- he isn’t like that, he _ loves _ me.”

“And when was the last time you ate?”

“Three hours ago,” Yuuri lied primly. 

The nurse looked unimpressed, but slid him a couple pamphlets. “You can leave these under the bed if you don’t want to take them home, but I encourage you to at least look at them.”

Yuuri tossed them in the trash. The nurse watched him for a long time, before eventually she closed her eyes and sighed. “The IV will be finished in a few moments. Someone will be back soon to release you. Good luck at your performance tomorrow, Mr. Katsuki.”

The nurse left. Yuuri watched her go, sitting on the bed for a long, quiet minute. His eyes landed on the trashcan. The top pamphlet was brightly colored and eye-catching. Yuuri shoved a few tissues on top of it to cover it up. 

* * *

**April 8, 2019**

Yuuri’s body was sore before the audience lights even dimmed. He missed his cue. He stumbled gracelessly. He dropped his partner and she cussed him out under her breath, eyes sparking with indignant fury. 

Yuuri retreated to his dressing room after the curtain fell. He couldn’t stop shaking. He was a failure. He had disappointed everyone. 

All his hard work, and he’d still managed to fall short. 

Bradley was understandably upset. His grand show had been a colossal failure because of Yuuri. Yuuri withdrew from the next show, then the next, unable to show his face. His understudy was elated to hear the news. Yuuri couldn’t leave the bed. 

Bradley drank himself into a stupor, too upset with what happened to face it sober. It made him more volatile, more unpredictable and scary than he’d ever been before. Yuuri stared at the ceiling listening to him snore. Yuuri’s body ached all over. It was his fault. He’d ruined everything for everyone. 

It all felt so clear suddenly. The only way for anyone to be truly happy was for Yuuri to disappear. He packed a few things in a bag, wrote a letter. He bought a stamp from an all-night gas station and dropped it in a postbox as he walked. 

His retirement was sealed the moment the metal door closed behind it. 

* * *

**April 11, 2019**

It was dark when Yuuri woke up. 

He couldn’t move. His limbs were strapped down to a cold, metal table by thick straps of what felt like leather. “H-help,” Yuuri croaked. “Someone- help-”

“Strange,” a voice called from the dark. A light turned on, bathing Yuuri in blinding white. He was stripped nude. “I thought you wanted to die.”

Victor Nikiforov. 

Every dancer knew who Victor was. He’d retired young, but he was famous the world over. He ran numerous important businesses now and flew all over the world in his fancy private jet. Yuuri had dreamed of meeting him even once in his life, if he was ever worthy of standing at that level.

Seeing him here like this… “You’re-” Yuuri croaked. His voice was dry. 

Victor grinned. The smile was not a nice smile, but rather cold and sharklike, with too many visible teeth. It was nothing at all like the smile Victor wore in public. “A fan?” he asked. “Of course I am a fan. Of you in particular, Mr. Katsuki. I have to say, the last few performances of yours have been… lackluster. I’m quite disappointed.”

Yuuri was frozen in place. “You’ve seen my shows?”

“Quite a few. I had hoped to meet you some time ago, but that girl with the purple eyes got in my way. Unfortunate, really, but time was short, and I had no choice.”

Sara.

“You-” Yuuri hissed, but his head spun and the bright lights dimmed. A hollow whine slipped out.

“Shh, not so fast. I only want beauty on this table, and right now, you don’t fit that criteria. What are all these? Disgusting,” Victor said, his lip curling in disdain. He traced a finger over the bruises on Yuuri’s hip. “You shouldn’t display your wanton lust so blatantly.”

Yuuri hissed under his breath. A straw was fed into his lips. He sharpened his eyes at Victor.

“Oh, relax, it’s water. You’re useless to me like this. The only bruises a dancer must have are on their feet. These are unacceptable. Until you heal, I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do to you.”

Yuuri narrowed his eyes. Still suspicious, he took a long pull. The water was cool and sweet down his throat. As his eyes adjusted to the brightness, he made out the label, some kind of expensive brand of bottled water. 

“You’re going to kill me,” Yuuri croaked. 

“Yes,” Victor said. He wore a perfectly winsome smile, his expression changing like channels on a TV. “Why do you want me to kill you? You seemed so eager yesterday when I pointed a gun at you.”

“You don’t have a gun now,” Yuuri observed.

“Keen eye. I don’t like guns, to be honest. It was a threat more than anything. They lack the intimacy of knives, and this is something I take great pride in. The gun is a little bit of a bluff. What about you, Yuuri? Was yours a bluff, as well?”

He squirmed. Victor was staring at him, tracing his gaze down his body, not lingering anywhere in particular, but giving off the curious impression of dissecting Yuuri with his eyes. “I still don’t care if you kill me,” Yuuri said, feeling more confident than the day before. 

He turned his head away. Nudity didn’t bother him. It never had. Even when the remains of his and Bradley's ... intimacy... lingered, Yuuri didn’t mind it so much. Every mark was something he earned. The hospital had the wrong idea entirely. 

“And why is that, I wonder?”

“They’ll catch you,” Yuuri said simply. 

“That’s not an answer. They haven’t caught me before. A third of homicides go unsolved, and half of serial killers are never caught. Why would they find me now?” 

“Because you’ll slip up eventually,” Yuuri said. “You’ve killed too many people. Someone will notice I’m gone soon eno-” He broke off. It felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over his head. 

Victor noticed. He leaned in closer, that shark smile back on his face. “Yesss, Yuuri?” Victor crooned. 

“Someone will notice I’m gone.” Maybe. He had sent his resignation, so no one at the studio would notice or care. But Bradley at least would- 

-well, if he ever got out of his drunken stupor...

Yuuri started to sweat. 

Victor sat in a chair beside the table, steepling his fingers under his chin. He smiled, this time something more pleasant than the shark grin of before. The media smile. “So, do you enjoy rough sex?”

“Excuse me?” Yuuri coughed. 

Victor trailed a finger through the air above the bruises. “Rough sex. You must like it-”

“If you finish that sentence, I’ll kill _ you _,” Yuuri growled. Victor grinned wider. 

“Cute. You are quite cute. I’ll take great pleasure in arranging your corpse after I kill you. I’ll have to find a suitably grand pose for you. Goodnight, Yuuri.”

The light turned off, and Yuuri was left alone in the dark. 

* * *

**December 19, 2007**

When Yuuri was 12, a family friend took him on a trip with her to Russia. Snow fell on the street, turned to slush by passing cars. The air was bitterly cold and stung the tip of his nose. 

Minako was like an aunt to him, practically family. The walls of her studio were lined with trophies and photographs of her shaking hands with important figures. Yuuri spent more time in the studio than he did at home. 

“We’re going to be late!” he wailed. 

Minako patted his head. Her smile was fond as she took his mittened hand and guided him into the theater. “We’re right on time. Come on, let’s head in.” 

Yuuri beamed as he was taken to a private box. Quiet awe fell over him as he looked to the stage. It was bigger than he ever imagined. The curtain looked heavy, made of rich velvet the color of wine, and Yuuri was desperate to see it open. 

The lights dimmed. A hush swept over the crowd. The curtain swept back slowly, revealing a boy of sixteen posed on a darkened stage, his silver hair falling in a long curtain around his face. Yuuri leaned forward.

The boy straightened at a musical cue, starting to move. It was stunning. Yuuri had never seen anything like it. Even Minako’s grace didn’t seem to compare to the willowy twist of the boy’s hips, the way he swayed and followed the music. Yuuri was spellbound. 

Even the other dancers seemed insignificant beside the boy. Yuuri desperately tried to read the program they’d been given, but it was printed in Cyrillic. “Who is he?” Yuuri said in a whisper, pointing too eagerly. “Please, I have to know!” He clutched the program too tightly in his fist. 

“Do you like his dancing?” she asked. Her eyes were twinkling with mischief. 

“He’s _ amazing,” _ Yuuri breathed. “I want to dance like that. I want to be beautiful like that! Please, Minako?”

She laughed softly, quietly enough that she wouldn’t disturb anyone else, and ruffled Yuuri’s hair. “You’ll need to spend a lot more time in my studio if you want to dance like that boy does, kiddo.” Minako took the program from his hands and smoothed it out. “Do you still want me to tell you his name?”

“Yes, please!” Yuuri whispered. His head whipped down to the stage just in time for the boy to leap in the air like a bird taking flight. His hair fanned out behind him. 

Yuuri’s heart pounded in his chest. 

“His name is Victor,” Minako said. “Victor Nikiforov.”

* * *

**April? 2019**

The Arabesque Killer was famous for his globe trotting ventures. Victor Nikiforov was famous for the same. 

Victor had won the same Benois de la Danse that Minako had won decades before him. He was a living legend among dancers, even before his retirement. He knew the industry inside and out in a way no one else did. 

He had the knowledge of ballet, access to the locations. From this perspective, it made a bit of sense. 

The only question Yuuri was left with was _ why _. None of it could begin to explain what would possibly drive Victor to capture dancers in the first place. 

He could hear a clock ticking quietly beside him. The room was warm, not a warehouse like Yuuri had first thought he’d ended up in. It was insulated. He was inside, possibly even in a house of some kind. Yuuri shifted and found the bonds on his arms were loosened in his sleep enough for him to sit up. 

He must have passed out again in the dark. His body was weak and he was painfully dizzy, but he was stiff from lying so long and he desperately needed to sit upright. 

The room was almost pitch black. 

It was hard to tell time like this, but it had been days at least since he had eaten. Not that it helped him to pinpoint how long it had been since he’d been abducted, of course. 

Yuuri had been dancing on three days of empty stomachs. When his anxiety got worse, all he wanted was greasy, unhealthy food. But then Bradley would give him that look that made Yuuri’s stomach fall out from under him and Yuuri would lose his appetite entirely. 

He stood on shaky legs. They gave out beneath him, and he slid to the floor, barely able to slow his decline with an awkward crouch. Yuuri braced an arm on the metal table and tried again. 

The room he was in was… nice, Yuuri realized. He made his way to the light switch. To his surprise, turning the light on revealed a mostly empty room, neatly furnished with a winged armchair and a small table beside the metal bed, with pale wood floors and creamy white walls. 

One wall was entirely comprised of mirrors, with a barre running down it. He could see his reflection, so small, hunched pathetically in on himself. 

The room, it looked like… 

The door opened. “Ah, lovely, you’re awake,” Victor chirped. He was smiling again. Yuuri wasn’t sure which smile this one was. It didn’t look like the media smile, but it had less teeth than the shark smile. Yuuri wondered if Victor ever stopped smiling. 

Yuuri could smell roast beef, potatoes, and vegetables all piled up on a white plate. His stomach made a loud noise of complaint. Victor placed the plate and a glass of water on the small metal table beside the bed. 

“Hungry, too, it seems. Let no one say I’m an ungracious host. Come and get it, Yuuri.”

Yuuri stared at the plate, then back at his reflection. The Victor in the mirror had the same unsettling quality to him as the original. 

“What do you want?” Yuuri rasped. His throat sounded ruined, and he was dying to eat the food that Victor left on the table. 

Wariness held him back. 

He looked away from the plate and back to Victor’s smile. “There has to be something. What do you want from me? Let me go or kill me.”

“I can’t do that, I’m afraid,” Victor said. “You see, you belong to me now.”

“People are-”

“Looking for you?” Victor scoffed. “No one has noticed you’re gone. I thought that slimy looking significant other of yours would at least report you missing, but it seems he’s so incompetent he can’t even do that! This man of yours is entirely unreliable.” He tutted sadly, shaking his head. 

“I don’t believe you,” Yuuri said. He stood shakily.

Victor seemed more interested in the bruises on his skin than anything else. Yuuri was still weak, but he held his head high. 

“I have no reason to believe you,” Yuuri continued. “For all I know, you’re lying to me. Trying to discourage me. They’re out there looking for me, I know it.”

Victor’s smile changed, becoming a little wider at the corners of his lips, his eyes going a bit narrower. “Is that so? These bruises will heal soon, Yuuri, and when they do…”

“What’s stopping me from hurting myself?” Yuuri asked. 

At this, Victor laughed. “Because you don’t strike me as a fool, Yuuri, despite your stubborn determination not to believe me. Trust me. You will become beautiful soon. And if you delay the inevitable, this token of freedom can always be taken away. Have a pleasant night, Yuuri.”

Victor left the room, leaving Yuuri alone once more. He glanced at the ticking clock. The face was plain and white, the hands thin. So the seven meant evening. Dinner time. 

The fork on his plate was made of flimsy plastic. It wasn’t firm enough to injure someone if they were stabbed, barely brittle enough to spear the tender roast. He kept it anyway, licking it clean after he polished off his meal. 

It sat heavily on his stomach, so rich he felt like being sick. 

Victor wanted him alive long enough for his bruises to heal. Why that was, Yuuri wouldn’t begin to understand. The man was clearly psychotic or something. Yuuri would use that to his advantage. But he needed his strength back before he could even think about making his escape. 

* * *

Yuuri dreamed of empty streets and empty skies. Back home, he was able to see hundreds of stars. They were faint and few, but compared to the city skies, they were dizzying. 

But tonight, there wasn’t even a moon to keep him company. His breath fogged up from his lips and nose, curling upwards to the blackened sky of his memories. He hunched over a little more. 

The grocery bag was warm in his fingers. He lifted it to his chest, hoping to keep the chill from setting in. Bradley had been stressed lately. A little surprise would surely help. His favorite meal from his favorite restaurant was sure to please. 

Yuuri smiled to himself, taking the elevator up to their fifth floor apartment. He let himself in. “I’m home!”

“Where have you been?” Bradley slurred. He held a glass bottle in his hand. His breath reeked of liquor, and his eyes were half glazed. He stood up, staggering under his own weight. “You should have been home- hic! An hour ago.”

Yuuri stepped back. The hair on the back of his neck rose. His whole body tensed. “I lost track of time at the studio. Then I stopped and brought dinner home-”

There was a crack, and everything went dark. 

Yuuri woke in a cold sweat, clutching his chest, tracing his fingers over the bruises on his throat. 

It was a long time before he caught his breath. 

* * *

The quiet in the room was maddening. 

When he could stand unassisted (after approximately two days of regaining his strength and eating the depressingly delicious meals provided by his….. host), he found the door, unsurprisingly, locked. 

Kicking at it didn’t make much of a dent in it. Kicking the walls didn’t do much good either. He whirled and grabbed the metal table from the floor and hurled it. It left a satisfying divot in the paint, but nothing else. 

Yuuri’s body was screaming for sunlight and something to do. He paced the length of the room for a long time. Sometimes he found himself swaying to songs under his breath, so desperate for something to do that he almost used the room for its intended purpose.

Sometimes he sat in the corner and counted his breaths out to the rate of the clock, keeping himself from losing control of himself entirely. 

Heart racing, skin crawling, body almost out of his control, breath coming faster and faster through his lips until he could hear himself in his ears. 

Victor visited like clockwork. Every day at 7am, noon, and 7 pm, he opened the door. 

He smiled at Yuuri, and at the new dents in the walls. He rubbed one with his finger. Paint flecked off. “I’ll fix those later, don’t worry about it,” he said. Yuuri had yet to see him ever angry. Yuuri wondered if it was even possible. 

He grabbed Yuuri by the arm and checked Yuuri’s bruises, studying the ones on his neck, his thighs, his hips. Yuuri glared balefully up. Victor wore the same placid smile the entire time, never wavering. 

Victor traced his fingers along the bruises on Yuuri’s neck, and Yuuri winced, fighting the urge to bodily recoil. He didn’t dare show any kind of fear like that, even as every fiber of his being screamed. 

“Your boyfriend doesn’t know how to do breath play at _ all _,” he scoffed. Yuuri paled. Victor didn’t seem to notice, and he continued his daily examination without further comment. 

Victor was sometimes slightly aroused when he did this. 

At first, it frightened Yuuri. He was still too weak to even consider fighting Victor off. But Victor seemed to pay no mind to the slight bulge in his trousers. He made no move to advance on Yuuri. He wore the same flat smile each time he entered and each time he left, his touch perfunctory and almost clinical. 

It was eerie. 

Yuuri jogged circles around the room to burn time. It was painfully boring. Yuuri had always preferred jogging outside to running on a treadmill, but he wasn’t letting himself waste away like this. He was going to escape. 

When his body ached from too many sit-ups, he imagined himself run through by Victor’s knife, and the pain seemed less severe. When he had a stitch in his side, he wondered what a bullet in the ribs would feel like. 

Yuuri was a man possessed, but for once, he felt entirely in control. 

Once per day, Victor left a bucket of clean water, a washcloth, and a clean towel. “Wash yourself,” was all he said. Yuuri told himself he was only following orders because the feeling of day-old sweat on his skin was disgusting. 

He wanted to spite Victor somehow. Go against him, rebel. He wanted to throw the food in Victor’s face, smash the mirrors, dump out the water and ruin the floors. 

But that would set Yuuri back from his plan.

As the days passed, Victor was growing complacent with his captive. He took less care with how he entered the room. He bent double to collect the old bucket of water and revealed the keyring in his pocket that would set Yuuri free. He was making mistakes. 

As long as Yuuri bit his tongue and played the obedient captive, Victor treated him… nicely. 

Yuuri narrowed his eyes as Victor went to leave once again. The meals were all extremely healthy, hearty but not glutinous. They were the meals of a dancer who ate well and kept themselves strong and lean.

“Nothing sweet,” Yuuri mourned. “I miss dessert.” The door closed behind Victor.

Yuuri hated captivity. He paced the room like a caged animal. He hummed songs under his breath, trying to remember old dances of his youth to keep his mind sharp. He recited each of the positions aloud, imagining the flex of his body in his mind. Every muscle itched to dance once more. 

He trained his eyes on the clock. 

Victor would be gone for hours more. Yuuri wouldn’t give his captor the chance to see him dance. It was what Victor wanted, of course. A dancer was at their most beautiful in motion. Yuuri had seen crime dramas. He knew the second he gave Victor what he wanted, it was all over for him. 

With the last bruises still yellow on his skin, he waited until the perfect moment to give him a solid break of uninterrupted time alone- immediately after lunch, with the food still sitting rich and heavy on his stomach. 

He placed one hand on the barre and he let the other rise. He rose up onto the balls of his feet. He bowed, and lifted one leg, stretching himself gently. The muscles protested, but not worse than he had expected. 

Yuuri had been in captivity for about two weeks, he’d guess. Considering the circumstances, he was in excellent shape. 

He eased himself into it slowly. Simple plies. A few steps he remembered from a scattering of his favorite performances. Just because it gave him a sick sense of amusement, he started into a rendition of the lead in the Lilac Fairy, a piece that was particularly associated with Victor himself. 

A month ago, Yuuri would have stumbled, fumbled, and bumbled his way through this if he so much as considered the idea of ever meeting Victor in the flesh. It was quietly amusing now. Yuuri would only ever do this piece for himself. 

His idol was a monster in human flesh. 

The spacious room gave him all the floor space he needed to transition from the Lilac Fairy into the last dance he did with Sara. 

He had never taken the time to properly grieve. There wasn’t a chance to. He had never let himself feel the sheer weight of losing her. Now, he let it sing out in his heart. 

He danced other things, things he didn’t want to think about, things he could only let out in motion and not in words. He didn’t limit himself to ballet. Anything and everything he had learned, every diverse step he could pull off solo, he mixed into the batch. 

After a few hours of this, he was dripping with sweat. He had never danced completely nude before, but it was oddly freeing. Breathing hard, head down, fingers white-knuckled clutching at the barre, he realized something. 

After the second or third day in here, he had stopped thinking of Bradley completely. Not once did his mind go back to that apartment, the man he thought he’d loved. 

After four or five days of captivity, he wasn’t thinking about the studio where he practiced. The only thing he’d really missed was this— dance, movement, expressing his thoughts the only way he knew how. 

He wiped the sweat from his body with the cloth, then dried himself off with the towel. 

Yuuri kept the towel on his hips as he sat in the winged armchair. The silence of the room felt heavy on his shoulders. 

Beside the door, he’d carved sixteen tick marks into the paint, one for every day he’d been here. It didn’t feel like more than two weeks had passed. 

He’d fallen into a routine by now. Laze around in the mornings, eat breakfast. Stretch, do a little bit of core exercises— push-ups, sit ups, whatever he could think of, until his stomach muscles burned. Eat lunch. Jog around the room until he was going to scream from sheer boredom. Do a few more laps. Wash himself. 

Then dinner would arrive, and Victor would inspect how his bruises were healing. Yuuri would eat and then lay on the floor and find patterns in the spackled ceiling. He’d recite ballet forms under his breath, with commentary about how to improve his stance. Sleep on the floor or the table with the towel as a blanket. Do it all again the next day. 

The door opened with the sound of a lock sliding out of place. Yuuri didn’t move. Victor swept inside, humming under his breath and locking the door behind him. 

“Up, up,” Victor said, placing the tray on the table. “Let me see your progress!”

Yuuri closed his eyes as he stood. Why did he humor this man? He told himself it was because it made things simpler. Because when he did what Victor asked, he got a larger portion of food, he got more variety and flavors in his meals. He got newspapers and books. 

Being a docile captive was just… easier. Rebelling took these things away. It was chicken and steamed broccoli every day when Victor was displeased with him. Yuuri left the towel on the chair. 

It didn’t feel odd, standing naked in front of Victor. 

No matter how Victor’s pupils dilated when he entered the room, he didn’t make a move to touch Yuuri besides lifting his arms, trailing his fingers over the air above yellowing bruises. 

“A week more, I think,” Victor said with a smile. “And you look like you’re back to your weight a month ago too! I thought you’d injured yourself at your last performance but I imagine you were just too heavy to do the lifts right.”

Victor beamed. 

Brutal. Tactless. But he was right. Dancing at that weight was unsafe, and Yuuri knew it. He was lucky he hadn’t hurt himself for real. It was bad enough if people thought he had. 

A week was all he had to escape and go back to his life outside. Victor tipped Yuuri’s head up. He studied the collar of yellow marks, appraising. 

His hand came up, and Yuuri flinched. 

There was something in Victor’s eyes, something suspicious, a train of thought that Yuuri couldn’t catch. His placid, pasted-on smile didn’t waver. Yuuri pushed him away, returning to his chair. 

“You know you can still let me go. It’s not too late. I can never be beautiful,” Yuuri said. He felt almost sick. “Even if you kill me, I’ll never look like the others. I can’t compare.”

He was ridiculous. Upset that he’d never reach whatever ludicrous standard of beauty that a crazy person had? No, he was upset that he’d never measure up to his own standards. 

He’d failed his family, and he’d failed his career, and he’d even failed himself. He’d dreamed of dancing with a man who only dreamed of death. Wasn't that rich?

Yuuri’s dancing was not what it should be. He could be better. He _ was _ better. He could be so much more, and yet he was here, condemned to death. Well, perhaps it was exactly what he deserved. 

Victor smiled. “Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps you’re wrong. We’ll find out in a week, won’t we? But you are coming along so well,” he said. “You do look so lovely already.” Rare praise made Yuuri’s ears burn. He swallowed the feeling as Victor turned and left. The door creaked softly halfway shut. 

Yuuri glanced back. On the plate of food, next to the healthy portion of veggies and roasted chicken, he spotted a small cookie. 

Genuine joy flooded him, tempered by suspicion. He took a cautious nibble of the end. It was soft, pebbled with rich, slightly bitter dark chocolate chunks. Yuuri stifled a little moan as he ate the cookie with tiny bites, savoring each nibble. 

It was pure heaven. 

* * *

Yuuri felt like a man with an expiration date printed on the pad of his foot. 

He was living on borrowed time, and that time was running out. Luckily, Yuuri had a plan. 

The plan started when Victor swept in, smiling as usual. Yuuri left the towel folded neatly on the table. He waited for Victor to inspect him for bruises and marks, as he did every day. His fingers were warm on Yuuri’s skin. 

“You like having me naked?” Yuuri said. It came out a little more barbed than he’d wanted it to, but all in all he managed to do a decent job of keeping it sounding light, like a joke. 

“I have to confess, I don’t exactly mind it,” Victor said. His smile was impish. “But it makes this easier. You understand, I hope?”

“Can’t I have a pair of boxers or briefs or _ anything _? It won’t cover my bruises.”

Victor laid his fingers over the bruises, silent for a minute. The yellowed marks were just a hair smaller than his fingers, but otherwise lined up near perfectly. Yuuri trembled despite his best efforts. He bit his lip hard enough to taste blood. 

Victor pulled his hand away at last. “Once you’re beautiful, I’ll dress you in the finest things. Until then, you’re unfit to wear even rags.” 

Yuuri bit back expletives. It was fine, he wasn’t shy enough that it would stop him from running outside buck naked. He’d just hoped to avoid it, if possible. Victor trailed his fingers down Yuuri’s hips. He was almost finished. 

Just the marks on Yuuri’s thighs aaaand- Yuuri stumbled, pitching forward with a yelp. “Ah, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-” he babbled, reaching clumsily around Victor’s waist for balance. 

Victor set him upright with broad, steady hands. Yuuri’s heart raced faster. 

“Clumsy today, are we?” Victor said. 

“Yeah,” Yuuri mumbled. “Guess so.” He shuffled back to the table, fussing with the fresh towel Victor had laid down. His skin prickled where Victor had touched, an unsettled feeling that shuddered along his spine. 

He waited until late in the night to move. Two AM would have to work. Yuuri couldn’t bear to wait any longer. He reached between the folds of the towel, extracting the keyring he’d swiped from Victor. 

He crept to the door, trying one key at a time. 

It only took two tries, the lock incredibly basic, but the grating of metal along the mechanism seemed deafening in the silence. Yuuri took it painfully slowly. He turned the doorknob on the locked door, careful of the soft creak midway through. 

It was dark, so dark that Yuuri’s eyes took a while to adjust. 

He held his breath. He wanted to minimize the amount of noise he made, but a strange, wet slapping sound came from close by. It sounded like… skin on skin, slick with fluid-

Yuuri froze. His eyes sharpened in the gloom. 

He was in a dimly lit bedroom. The lights were off, save for a single lamp beside the bed. And there, on the bed, head thrown back, nude, hand slicking over his cock in a frantic rush, was Victor Nikiforov. 

His eyes were closed, with little grunts slipping past his lips. His slender fingers worked himself over. Yuuri was struck frozen for a moment, painfully aware of every wet slap of skin. 

Victor paused. 

He didn’t look as surprised to see Yuuri as Yuuri was to see him. In fact, Victor smiled, eyes sliding half open. “Oh, Yuuri. Did you want to join me?” 

Yuuri bolted for the door, already anticipating a chase. Victor didn’t move. Even when Yuuri reached the door, Victor just leisurely stroked his cock, sucking in a sharp breath. 

The knob was locked. He fumbled with the keys, but Victor didn’t move except to tuck himself away inside a pair of black underwear. Yuuri’s hands were trembling.

“It won’t work,” Victor said. 

Yuuri dropped the keys in shock. He snatched them up, shoving a key at random into the keyhole. None of them fit. Victor sat up on the bed, drying his hand off with a nearby tissue. 

“I’m telling you, you won’t get the door open like that. Only I have the key to that door, my cute little Yuuri, and I don’t bring it with me into your room.”

Yuuri tried another key, then another. “It has to work. It has to- it-” his breath was coming faster and faster. Victor stood and stretched. 

“Adorable. You think you can get out like that. Give up. I know you’ve got an insignificant other, but if you want, I can bed you properly before your death. Would you like that?”

Yuuri let out a desperate cry, sobs ripping up his chest. He had to get out, he had to escape, he had to- he had to- 

He ripped at the doorknob, desperately trying to turn it. He pounded at the door. He whirled and headed for the windows. They were sealed shut, made of stronger stuff than Yuuri expected. He was several floors up, anyway, high enough that he’d certainly break something if he jumped. 

Arms encircled his body. 

Yuuri thrashed, but Victor was surprisingly strong, holding Yuuri in his arms with surprising ease. Captivity had done a number on Yuuri’s stamina. Even what little workouts he’d managed in his prison didn’t compare to his normal routine. 

“Shhh,” Victor breathed. “Relax.”

Yuuri spasmed. “Don’t touch me, don’t touch me- let me go!” he screamed. Victor let him fall. Yuuri collapsed to the floor in a heap, unable to hold back the sobs ripping through him. 

A little part of him whispered that death wouldn’t be so bad. That at least he no longer had anyone to disappoint. 

A larger part of him screamed, furious and raging that he failed even this. He couldn’t even escape right. He had to live, he had to get out and back on stage, return to the life he’d led before. 

Victor crouched beside him. “Ah, I’m really terrible at dealing with crying people,” he admitted, tapping his chin, thinking.

“Let me go!” Yuuri screamed. “Just let me go. Let me go…”

Victor grabbed a pair of sweatpants from his dresser and then sat on the bed. All the while, Yuuri openly sobbed on the floor. There was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide, except back into his prison. Victor watched in silence. He moved back in the bed, leaning against the headboard and watching in contemplative silence. 

Yuuri cried himself out. 

He was a mess. A failure, a loser, slated to die and no one was even looking for him. This was the life he’d led. This was what he’d sown, and it was what he’d reap. Eventually he was limp and tired on the floor, his body so exhausted he couldn’t bring himself to move. But he couldn’t close his eyes, too crippled by fear. 

Victor at last stood. A pill bottle rattled quietly in the distance. Slender fingers pushed a pair of white pills between Yuuri’s lips. He weakly spat at them, but a chase of sweet, cool water pushed them down his throat. 

Victor picked Yuuri up and laid him over the bed. He laid a hand over Yuuri’s forehead. Yuuri fought the pills, but he could feel his body growing sleepy and sluggish. Victor combed his fingers through Yuuri’s hair. 

In the cruelest parody of affection, Yuuri almost felt safe. He remembered the last time his mother had stroked his hair and told him everything would be alright. 

Victor’s voice was soft. It sent chills down Yuuri’s spine. But it was too late to stop, and he slipped away to sleep. The last words he heard were, “Ah, Yuuri, you are beautiful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please bear with me, at least for a few chapters more!!! Chapter art can be found here —> https://aurum-auri.tumblr.com/post/188150931451/check-out-this-beautiful-art-for-chapter-one-of-my


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri sees more of what lies beyond the door, and receives a few surprises.

**April 25, 2019 **

The folder slid across a desk. “Are we sure he’s even missing?” the officer said. 

Detective Yang cocked her eyebrow. “No one has been able to turn up a sign of him in fifteen days. He’s a dancer. We need to give this to the Arabesque Killer team, I’m sure of it.”

“I’m not convinced,” her partner, Jean Jacques Leroy, said with a shrug. “The Arabesque Killer doesn’t take two victims from the same place, and he usually has a longer cooling off period. I think that Katsuki being a dancer is just coincidence. Plus, he’s been missing for over two weeks. The Arabesque Killer would have left his body somewhere by now.”

“Do you have a better explanation, then?” she asked. “We can’t confirm how long it took to report him missing, our timeline is hazy at best, and indecision isn’t helping.”

“I’m just saying. That Chadaeu guy is a real piece of work. Nekola and I stopped by that hospital that Katsuki checked into a couple weeks ago. Nurses said he was throwing up all kinds of red flags.”

“Red flags?” she asked. She grabbed the folder. The first few pages were basic information, along with a photo of a young japanese man with messy hair and glasses. “What kind of red flags?”

JJ waved over a man with dusty blond hair and a goatee. “Hey, Nekola, what did that nurse say to you?”

Isabella Yang sat back, crossing her arms as Emil walked over. He pulled up a chair, sitting in it backwards and resting his arms on the straight back of the chair. He was talking as he settled in, “She was telling me, they have this whole process for when they think there’s some kind of abuse going on. Get the suspected abuser out of the room to some fake paperwork. Then they talk to the suspected victim.”

“And?” Isabella asked. “What did he say? Chadaeu was abusing him?”

“Nah, the nurse said that most people don’t admit to it. But he had some typical marks. Avoidant, defensive. People in consensual relationships would laugh it off, usually. JJ and I were thinking, maybe Katsuki finally got enough. Maybe he just left that dick. I mean, how long did it take Chadeau to even notice Katsuki left him?”

“... Ten days, we think,” Isabella said after a long pause. “At least, ten days since the last time we can place Katsuki anywhere besides his apartment.” She flipped through the papers. "Mr. Crispino wasn't very knowledgeable about the last time Katsuki was seen."

“Do we know for sure he left, though?” Emil asked. “I was just thinking, what if this Chadaeu guy hid the body and waited to make sure it didn’t turn up. Then play the ‘poor me’ card to keep us off our back.”

Isabella nodded, tapping her lip with a pen. What a sad, sad life this kid lived. If he wasn’t killed by one killer, then it was at the hands of a lover. Or, she could only hope, maybe he had just gotten fed up and left it all behind. Maybe he’d found a better life somewhere else, and was just looking to leave it all behind him. 

She twirled her pen in her fingers, tapping it against the desk. “Even if he did leave, we still have to follow through. At least make sure the guy is safe. Just follow up on the leads we’ve got, and make sure there’s no foul play.”

A blond kid erupted into a cheer, slamming into Isabella’s side. The rookie was practically crying tears of joy, staring up at her in wonder. “I’ll help! I’ll help!” he said. “Please, just let me help find Yuuri! I’ve been a fan of his for a long, long time!”

She looked helplessly at Nekola and Leroy, but they were muffling laughter behind their hands. “I’ll keep you updated,” she sighed, patting the kid’s head. 

Minami was enthusiastic, at least. The pair of rookies they’d taken on this year were driven, determined little spitfires who were eager to make a difference. 

Minami froze. “But… Detective Yang… if all that is true… We can’t send him back there if he ran. What if Bradley Chadaeu does something even worse to him?”

“We won’t let that happen,” she said firmly. She shook her head firmly. “We will find the truth.”

* * *

**… April? 28? 2019**

Yuuri liked to sleep in. If he didn’t have to be anywhere, he’d stay in bed well past breakfast, and even lunch if he felt like it. 

A normal morning often went like this: Yuuri rolling out of bed into the late morning air, running his fingers through his hair to comb it out of its messy bedhead state. Bradley was usually gone, and that was more than fine with Yuuri. 

Bradley had a slight temper in the mornings, and usually woke up from his hangovers in a bad mood. Hair of the dog was his favored method of dealing with it. 

Which was why, when Yuuri found himself wrapped in a warm embrace, he was confused but pleasantly surprised. His body was heavy, like a weighted blanket was thrown over him. He didn’t want to open his eyes. They were gummed shut with a sleepy rheum, and rubbing it away required him to move his arms. Too much work. 

He hadn’t been held like this in… it must have been years. Bradley thought cuddling was “for needy chicks” and he didn’t like it. Yuuri wasn’t a very touchy person to start, and for the most part, it didn’t bother him. 

But sometimes… sometimes this was all Yuuri wanted. To feel safe and warm. To feel like everything was going to be okay. He could only lie to himself for so long. 

He felt fingers touching his face. The touch was soft, exploratory. It raked through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead, before trailing down his jaw and brushing the faded bruises on his neck. 

Yuuri let out a tiny whimper. “Please, no,” he choked. His fingers clenched in the sheets, drawing his legs up. He bumped into a solid body. The hands withdrew. 

He relaxed a bit. Bad memories flooded him when people touched his neck. He didn’t like to think about them. He’d run away from them if he could, pretending they didn’t exist. But in bed, in the peaceful mid-morning quiet, there was nowhere to run. 

The bed shifted. Yuuri curled in on himself, missing warmth already. 

What a bad dream he’d had. It must have been a dream, really. Yuuri’s life wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t so bad that it would end in his own abduction and potential murder. He needed to tone back on the coffee. 

A door opened and closed. Yuuri heard the sound of someone using the bathroom. 

His eyes snapped open. It was like a bucket of ice water dumped over his body. “Fuck,” he breathed. 

A spacious, four-postered bed took up a large portion of the room. The hangings were silk and silvery, the bedsheets black and stark beneath them. The fixtures were a pale wood. Dresser, body length mirror, desk, closet, bathroom, studio, and… the locked door. 

He was in the bedroom of his captor, Victor Nikiforov.

Yuuri tumbled backwards out of the bed. Sheets tangled around his midsection. He muttered several “ _ fuck _ ”s in frantic succession, scrambling into his feet and toward the door, any door, as long as it wasn’t the one that would open up to… Yuuri grimaced. 

One of them opened wide, revealing a closet full of neatly organized clothes. Numerous expensive-looking suits lined the walls, each one pressed and neatly hung on a padded hanger. The shoes were all polished and perfectly aligned. An array of watches ticked in perfect harmony. 

Yuuri stumbled back. He tried the main door again, but it was locked, just as it had been last night. 

Yuuri frantically dug through the room trying to find a key, but quietly, hoping that he didn’t interrupt the… alone time Victor spent. Yuuri couldn’t stop himself from cringing in disgust. 

No key to be found. 

He ripped at the windows instead, trying to fling them open. They felt odd under his fingers, not quite exactly like glass. 

Yuuri stumbled back. He could hear Victor finishing. The closet stood wide open, as well as the door to the private dance studio room where Yuuri had been kept prisoner. 

He couldn’t breathe. His heart was pounding faster than it ever had. His mind whirled, his thoughts dizzying in the way they raced through him faster than he could keep up with them. 

Life, death, escape, the world beyond, Bradley, Victor, Sara, Sara alive and dancing and beautiful, Sara in a coffin lowered into the earth, tears down faces, a white haired man tossing a rose- 

Yuuri choked. 

He crept into the closet and held himself. Victor was there, at the funeral. He’d seen her. He’d seen  _ Yuuri _ , and Michele, and everyone else. 

Yuuri was going to throw up, and he could barely hold himself back. He wriggled into the closet, hiding behind clothes. Maybe Victor would leave, maybe Victor would forget and leave the door open, maybe somehow Yuuri wouldn’t die-

The toilet flushed. He heard running water as Victor washed his hands, then he heard the TV turned on. News. Yuuri leaned closer. It was quiet enough that it was hard to hear, but he could just make it out. 

The news anchors talked and talked about sports, weather, some feel good segment about a video of a squirrel and a German Shepherd cuddling. They mentioned a murder in a restaurant. 

Yuuri strained to hear a mention of himself. He was a dancer who was missing for almost three weeks. There was bound to be a mention somewhere, but- nothing. The news cycled through. His legs ached from being cramped and curled up against his body. He was shaking as the news started back and repeated the same stories again. 

He hadn’t been mentioned, not even once, not even in passing. 

Of course, of course he wasn’t. He quit. No one knew he was gone, no one but Bradley, and even then… maybe Bradley realized he was better off alone. Maybe Bradley thought he’d walked out, the way Yuuri had often threatened to do. 

Yuuri was gone now. And instead of bringing chocolates and a puppy plushie to placate and apologize, Bradley must have realized life was easier now. He didn’t have this burden weighing him down. 

Yuuri’s breath was shaky. He heard the TV cut off. “Yuuri!” Victor called, more like he was greeting a friend than calling Yuuri like a dog. It was quiet for a moment before the bed shifted. Yuuri crept deeper into the closet. 

He pulled one of the jackets around him, then reached into a nearby drawer to yank out the first shirt he could grab. It was a white button up, and he tossed it over his shoulders. He did up the bottom few buttons and grabbed the sturdiest looking dress shoe within arm’s reach. 

He’d be damned if he died naked and afraid. 

The closet door opened without even a whisper. A fan of light spread across the floor. 

“Yuuri, don’t be silly. I know you’re in here. Come on out,” Victor beckoned. His voice was painfully sweet. Yuuri wanted to be sick. 

He stayed motionless. If Victor came into the closet, Yuuri was ready to bash him over the head, grab the key from whatever pockets he had them tucked into, and get out of here. 

Victor waited in the doorway. Yuuri was struggling to keep his breath silent. He was screaming in his mind, begging Victor,  _ turn around, damnit, turn around _ and clutching the shoe tight. 

There was a beat. “Fine, stay in there,” he said, closing the door on Yuuri. 

Yuuri was left in the dark. He waited, listening, straining hard to hear. The door to the outside world opened. It closed. There was a click of a lock, and then there was silence. 

Yuuri bolted to his feet, desperately trying the door. Victor had locked it behind him. Yuuri paced the room like an animal, then circled around. Nothing in the nightstand drawers but a mostly empty bottle of lubricant, a dildo, and a large quantity of tissues. 

The charger cable plugged into the wall was not any use, unless Yuuri wanted to use it as an improvised strangulation weapon. He wadded it up and clutched it in his fist. Better than a shoe at least. 

He growled under his breath. There was nothing useful in here. If Victor had hidden the key, he must have taken it with him. 

Yuuri turned back. He glanced at the closed bathroom door for a moment, then at the dance studio standing wide open. 

His prison. In the morning light, it didn’t look so scary. It didn’t look like hell on earth. His sense of time and reality was warped. Only the clock on the wall and Victor’s regularity kept Yuuri remotely sane. 

The thought of going back in that little room made him unbearably twitchy. Having access to Victor’s bedroom wasn’t much, but it more than quadrupled Yuuri’s available space to roam. It was more freedom than he’d seen in weeks. 

He stepped cautiously closer to the dance studio. It seemed odd for a studio to be inside the house, even more so for it to be attached to a bedroom like this. It had to be specially made. There was no other explanation.

Yuuri peered at the lock on the door. It didn’t match the rest of the fixtures. It had been added later, it seemed. Maybe even while Yuuri had been sleeping. The lock on the other door must have been new as well. 

Yuuri glanced back at the door, then to the studio. He didn’t want to step back inside. He had every inch of the room practically memorized. But he had to see… He crept inside, glancing back at the door with every step. Hmm, it was true, then, Yuuri thought. The bolts on the bed were also new. 

It had all been done hastily. Perhaps Victor hadn’t even accounted for keeping Yuuri as long as he had. So why, then, did he? Why did it matter so much for Yuuri to be beautiful?

His heart began to race. Sara had been beautiful, and she’d died so much faster than Yuuri. The feeling was complex when it had no right to be. Yuuri should not feel so split about not being killed. 

He should be relieved, not prickling with annoyance. Not wondering why he didn’t measure up to a psycho's ridiculous nonsensical standards. 

There was a soft click of a plate being laid in the doorway. Yuuri turned his head slowly. Victor smiled. Yuuri had never even heard him approach. And then Victor shut the door. 

Yuuri lurched forward, crying out, “No! You can’t- please!” The lock clicked. He pounded at the door with a feral scream. “Let me go! Let me out of here, dammit, let me go!” His voice broke and he dissolved into sobs. 

His voice was barely audible, a broken, terrible little thing. 

“Don’t leave me alone, please, let me go,” Yuuri whispered. He wrapped his arms around himself, rocking slowly. The room was closing in around him. Shadows felt longer, creeping under his skin and clawing under, inside him, filling him with ice and pain and aching through his veins. 

Alone again, alone again-

He sobbed, aching, open, raw. Everything poured out at once. The shirt wrinkled around him, reeking of Victor’s stupid, probably way-too-expensive cologne. No one knew he was gone, no one cared, and here he was, completely alone with the punishment he’d always deserved. 

The door opened quietly. He heard footsteps, then felt hands cradle his face, affectionate and sweet. Victor’s thumbs wicked away tears. 

The smile on Victor’s face had a tranquil kind of beauty to it. He hummed, and Yuuri could only look up at him in a mix of fear and awe and hate. No, no, Victor couldn’t see him cry, Yuuri wouldn’t allow it-

“Beautiful, just beautiful,” Victor breathed. Yuuri could feel his blood run cold. He stumbled backwards, falling onto his ass on the floor, scrambling like a crab until his spine hit the mirror. 

“Don’t touch me,” Yuuri spat. 

Victor smiled the same smile as always. “Yuuri, you’re making this too much fun for me. I’ll be back in a few hours. Good morning, by the way.”

Yuuri touched his cheek as Victor left the room. He could almost feel the echo of Victor’s touch. His eyes were stinging from crying. 

What the fuck did all that mean?

* * *

**April 28, 2019**

He was back in the studio. 

A night sleeping in the winged armchair served as a painful reminder that last night he’d slept in a bed, a real one, and he’d slept better than he had in… god, it had to be years. That sucked. 

He supposed he was lucky Victor hadn’t assaulted him— but then, despite the sexuality Victor blatantly displayed, he didn’t seem interested in assaulting Yuuri. He’d had ample opportunity and chances, and Yuuri was only getting stronger by the day, more able to resist. 

Victor made a pass once, but that was that. He let Yuuri go when Yuuri asked him to…

It just- it didn’t make sense. What was his angle? His motive? He had to want something. Why else would he still be waiting to kill Yuuri? 

Yuuri’s bruises had faded. The mangled sight of his feet was still ghastly, but his skin was clear. He groaned loudly and flopped onto the floor. 

As much as this shirt reeked of Victor, at least it was something on his skin. He felt less exposed now, so that was something to be said. 

Yuuri glanced to the little pile of newspapers. 

He’d checked them through completely. There wasn’t a single page missing, and he hadn’t been mentioned in any of them. It wasn’t that Yuuri felt vain, he just… he wanted to know someone was looking for him. That someone cared. 

He tore a neat square out of the newsprint and began to fold. 

* * *

**November 18, 2005**

“Like this?” Yuuri asked. He held a little folded diamond up in the air. 

Mari Katsuki nodded. A lazy smile split her lips. “Yeah, good. Now turn it over and fold it in half again.”

The last few steps of folding a crane were the hardest. Yuuri liked the frog better. It was simpler, and he could flick the tail to make it ‘hop’ around. 

He was home. 

The world was small, just a little onsen in a little city called Hasestsu. The edges of the world were Minako’s dance studio, the Ice Castle skating rink down the street, and old man Tanaka’s ramen shop. 

Customers were mostly from around here. A few were tourists, but they were far and few. They always spoke in garbled tongues Yuuri yearned to understand. 

His sister laid her finished bird on the table beside her, already folding another. Yuuri’s clumsy fingers fumbled with the folds. Mari’s army of paper animals were crisp and neat, the edges perfectly matched up. Yuuri’s were messy, mismatched and barely recognizable. 

She folded more and more, with Yuuri beside her, humming softly all the while. Lions, dragons, birds, turtles, trees, owls, elephants, rabbits. A little menagerie of animals began to gather. 

Dinner was set out, and the paper zoo was set aside. His mother laid steaming bowls of crispy fried pork, rice, egg and sauce out over the table. Yuuri beamed.

Yuuri was always the little, cute, slightly pudgy kid whose family ran the onsen. His smile was sparkling. He spent his afternoons dancing and his weekends skating. More than anything, he liked being here, surrounded by family and friends. 

His mother was a little rounded in the cheeks, but always smiling. Her hands were always steady, her support and love unwavering. 

His father loved sports, his family, and his job. Running the onsen was not always easy for him and his wife, but they were happy and in love. 

And Mari… Mari was something unpredictable and beautiful. Half the time she had a cigarette hanging out her mouth and trailing smoke into the air. Her hair was bleached blonde, but somehow always grew back in within days, deep black at the roots. 

She was the wild child, yet she always supported Yuuri. She was older, old enough that the petty squabbling stage of siblings had been mostly bypassed. Mari was cool, but she was also Yuuri’s friend. 

Yuuri loved his family dearly. This was how he would always remember them. 

* * *

**April 28, 2019**

Yuuri glared at Victor when he brought lunch, later in the day. “What are you waiting for?” Yuuri asked. “I thought you were going to kill me.”

Victor’s pleasant smile didn’t change. “Let’s worry about that later. Stand up, please!” He gestured to the chair. Yuuri didn’t stand. 

Victor tapped his chin, still smiling, and Yuuri simply watched. “Is this going to be a problem?” Yuuri asked innocently. His gaze turned hard. “Let me go, Victor. You don’t have to keep me here.”

“I’m afraid you’re not going anywhere. I don’t want to force you to stand up, Yuuri, but I will if you want me to.”

Yuuri shook his head. “No, I’m not taking orders from you. Kill me right now, I’m done with your games. Kill me, or let me walk out of here.” Victor’s eyes went wide with shock, the smile slipping away. Success. Yuuri latched onto it, crossing his legs delicately in front of him. “So force me if you want. I’m done with these games. You can’t scare me.”

Victor smiled returned, even wider than ever before. He took a step closer. 

Yuuri twitched back. “You don’t scare me! F-Fuck you!” His nails bit into the soft, velvety covering on the chair. 

Victor leaned in close. His eyes were big and blue and bright, too close to Yuuri. Yuuri sucked in a breath and held it, motionless, refusing to break gaze. “Mmmmmmm… Don’t tempt me with with possibilities you don’t intend to make good on,” Victor breathed, before stepping back. His eyes traveled over the room, lingering on the train of paper animals lining the edge of the metal table/bed. “I’ll be back with dinner. Would a gift make you more amenable to my requests?”

“I don’t want your gifts,” Yuuri spat. 

Victor hummed. “Alright then, I’ll return soon. Have a nice afternoon.”

Yuuri glared at the door as it closed. His shoulders sagged. He’d managed to surprise Victor, but it hadn’t won him anything. Victor just looked amused by it all, in the end, and Yuuri was right where he’d started, locked up in a private dance studio. Yuuri hurled the smaller metal table at the door, where it made a satisfyingly loud thunk. 

He returned to the little line of paper animals on the bed, frowning. 

Sometimes at night, when the moon and stars were the only light in the room and Bradley was snoring beside him, he wondered what his family would think of him now. 

He’d gotten everything he’d ever dreamed of. Principal danseur for a ballet company. A life on stage, and more undeserved accolades than he could dream of. But instead he felt hollow inside. 

“Why,” he breathed. He stared at the paper frog and flicked its tail, sending it hopping to the floor. They only ever wanted him to be happy. They didn’t care what trophies he won, as long as he had a smile on his face when he won them. 

Maybe that was why he felt like he’d let them down. 

Victor returned hours later, a few minutes later than he normally arrived. Yuuri watched the door, hunched in on himself. 

Victor had a plate and a small paper bag in his hands. 

Yuuri squinted. Victor busied himself with setting the bag on the table, arranging the paper dragons and turtles neatly around it. Then he passed Yuuri the plate. 

He was beaming, but he said nothing, just nodded at Yuuri and left. Yuuri watched him go, suspicious but silent. He set the plate aside and reached for the bag.

He dropped it like it was poison. 

Two pairs of dance shoes and a large, colorful stack of paper spilled out onto the floor. Perfectly square sheets fluttered over the wood flooring, slowly settling without any drafts to send them further on their adventures. 

The shoes laid there innocently. One pair of pointe shoes and one pair of men’s ballet slippers. 

He shoved both back into the bag, gathered up all the papers, and shoved them in as well. Angrily, he folded about four dozen boring, bland, identical paper airplanes out of the colorful paper and settled in for the night, glaring at the door and waiting for Victor to return. 

He eventually drowsed off to sleep and awoke to the door opening again, his eyes slowly sliding open as Victor left the plate on the smaller metal table. 

Victor let out a disappointed sigh. “Did you not like the paper?”

“I didn’t,” Yuuri said. His voice was still rough from sleep, and he pushed his hair back from his face, roughly combing it with his fingers. He yawned. Then Yuuri’s expression turned hard, his hands curling into fists. “Why,” he hissed. “Why did you give me those shoes?”

Victor’s smile turned placid. Almost… pasted on. Yuuri narrowed his eyes. “You don’t like them either?”

“Why did you give me pointe shoes?” Yuuri said. Victor walked forward, and Yuuri pressed himself flat against the chair, shrinking back. But Victor only trailed a finger down Yuuri’s ankle, past the sole, around the ball of his foot. Yuuri’s feet were a dancer’s feet, mangled, ugly, and somehow beautiful in their strength. 

“You and I both know a dancer’s feet are their livelihood,” Victor said. “You can tell a lot about a dancer by them. And then there are things I noticed that they don’t talk about in dance studios. The way men’s feet and women’s feet so often looked radically different. Why is that, I wondered?”

Yuuri’s stomach seemed to sink into the pit of his body. He pressed his lips into a thin line and said nothing. 

“But it was very simple and obvious, and the answer was these.” He held up the pointe shoes. “Women’s feet show different abuse than a man’s foot because of different shoes. However, my dear, your feet have the same abuse. I didn’t realize the principal danseur liked to secretly dance en pointe until I saw  _ these _ .”

Yuuri retracted his feet from Victor’s touch, tucking them under his body. The gnarled, hideous toes, the blackened, dead toenails, he pulled them out of sight. “That’s ridiculous. Men don’t dance en pointe,” Yuuri spat. 

“Traditionally, they don’t,” Victor agreed. “You, however, might as well wear a neon sign that says you do. I thought you might like the option.” He set the shoes back on the table, laying them neatly between the paper animals. Satin ribbons spilled down the edge of the table, trailing nearly to the floor. Yuuri was trembling. 

“It can’t be that obvious,” he sputtered. “I don’t- I don’t even do it that often-” 

Victor just smiled at him. “You fascinate me more than you know. Good morning, Yuuri. And please, let me know if you’re ever willing to let me watch you dance.”

He turned his head and left the room without further comment. Yuuri watched the door close. He shifted in the chair and half of the pile of paper airplanes spilled onto the floor. 

The pink satin ribbons seemed so ominous in the way they hung down the table’s edge. The black men’s slippers beside them were incongruent in comparison. 

Yuuri flopped back into his chair. He cupped his hands and shouted at the top of his lungs, “If you really wanted to give me a gift, give me some boxer briefs, damnit!” 

He huddled into a ball. The shirt was starting to smell like Yuuri, and not in a good way. This was just embarrassing at this point. Not even a matter of nudity or not, but a matter of pride. He never thought he’d actually miss the boring pair of black boxer briefs he’d been wearing. 

* * *

**June, 2008**

“Amazing,” Yuuri breathed. 

Minako was pure grace. She swept through the studio on the tips of her toes, like a bird in flight as she danced. It was stunning. 

She laughed and ruffled Yuuri’s hair. “Come on, Yuuri, let's do some more barre exercises.”

Yuuri grumbled loudly. 

“You’ll never be like Victor with that attitude,” she teased. He hopped to his feet, stretching out at the barre. 

“Please, can you teach me how to dance en pointe?” he begged. “I know it won’t help me, but…”

Minako lowered herself off her toes, her feet flat on the ground. “Yuuri, we talked about it. It’s not that I don’t want to, but… It would hurt more than it helped. And I don’t want you getting injured over it.”

“I don’t care about that,” Yuuri said. Minako stared him down, a test of wills. Yuuri didn’t break eye contact. They both knew: if she didn’t show him, he’d find his own way to learn. “Won’t you teach me to do it  _ right?” _

Minako sighed. “Prove to me you can dance without it.  _ Then _ , and only then, will I show you.”

* * *

**April 30, 2019**

It was funny. How many years had Yuuri idolized Victor? How many years had he spent dreaming of what the legend was like in person? 

How quickly it was all torn away, like waking from a dream. 

Yuuri woke up from a dead sleep to another bag placed beside the growing army of newsprint animals. A plate of breakfast was left on the table beside him. Victor pushed Yuuri’s hair back from his face, studied him a moment as Yuuri blearily cracked open his eyes, and left without a word. 

Yuuri was slow to sit up. He pulled the dirty shirt around him, feeling gross. A few colorful airplanes tumbled to the floor with soft, papery whispers. One of them caught the air and glided to a stop about two meters away. Yuuri looked at the plain paper bag. 

There was… something silky inside. He pulled it out, cheeks flushing red. Underwear. They looked like boxer briefs, except they were a nude color and lacy. Yuuri let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and he started to laugh. 

He couldn’t stop. Once he started, it poured out of him, the way the tears had, not so long ago. He laughed and laughed until moisture pricked the corner of his eyes and his chest ached. 

There was a note in the bag beside the six other similar pairs, each in a different color. 

_ Freshly purchased and laundered. Ask and you shall receive.  _

Yuuri glared at the door. He hesitated only a minute before hiking the nude pair up over his hips. It felt a little better to at least have something covering his groin, even if he did feel a little ridiculous to wear something so… pretty. Just because he danced en pointe didn’t mean he liked wearing feminine panties. Even if these were… rather comfortable…

He pounded on the door. “Let me go! Let me out of here!” But his requests went unanswered. He slouched back to the chair. He folded a few new animals to add to the menagerie. He got bored. 

Logically, he knew time passed in the room. But the ticking of the clock felt achingly slow. The minute and hour hands felt like they took days to make their rounds. 

And Yuuri was… alone. 

He studied his skin. In his solitude, the flaws on his skin seemed to fade. 

He jogged around the room for a while, but working up a sweat didn’t entertain him for long. He was sticky with sweat. Even washing himself off with the washcloth didn’t help enough to get rid of the general unclean feeling. Victor returned with lunch. He said nothing about the newest gift, and so Yuuri chose to also say nothing. 

_ Ask and you shall receive,  _ the note had said. 

He didn’t trust Victor at all. There was something else going on here. 

“Can I take a real bath?” he asked.

Victor smiled. “Of course.” Yuuri masked the surprise. It was that easy? No. There was something else going on. But as suspicious as Yuuri was, he still followed as Victor unlocked the door. 

Victor led him to the bathroom. Yuuri discarded the wrinkled, slightly dingy dress shirt on the floor. Victor had seen him naked enough times that Yuuri didn’t feel shame, only regret that he very well might not get his shirt back after this.

It was worth being clean. 

Victor turned the water on for him, testing the temperature and allowing it to warm into a steady rush of heat. Then Victor undid the buttons on his own shirt. 

“What are you doing?” Yuuri said, startled. 

“I’m going to wash your hair for you,” Victor said with a cheeky grin. “Come on in.”

Yuuri turned around, suddenly changing his mind. “Not worth it,” he said. He grabbed the shirt off the floor and started to pull it back over his shoulders. 

He heard a sound behind him, so startling it made Yuuri freeze in place. Victor was… laughing? Yuuri turned, startled to see Victor with his hand over his mouth, eyes crinkling at the corners and sparkling bright blue. 

Yuuri bristled. “Why are you laughing?”

“It’s funny,” Victor said. “You’re stubborn, and it’s cute. I’m not getting in with you, you don’t have to worry about that. What’s holding you back?”

“Nothing at all. I’m just not getting in that tub with you in the room.”

Victor snorted a short burst of laughter. He pulled a scented bubble bath from a shelf and poured a measure into the water as it filled. “What if I make an agreement with you? You seem quite rational to me,” Victor said, beaming.

“Funny, you don’t seem rational to me at all,” Yuuri said. He could feel panic simmering below his skin. Victor was unpredictable and that was scary. 

“Your smart mouth is also cute,” Victor said. Yuuri huffed quietly as Victor continued. “If you let me wash your hair, I’ll provide you with a fresh, clean shirt for you to wear, as well as a clean shirt every day you remain with me.”

“Why?” Yuuri asked. He crossed his arms. 

Victor shrugged. “Simply because I want to. Do we have a deal or not?”

Yuuri measured Victor’s smile. The different smiles seemed to have different meanings, though it was hard to pick exactly what each meaning was. This one, however, seemed to be a smile that wanted something Yuuri could give him. “I want a fresh shirt and pants.”

Victor’s smile slipped momentarily, stunned. “We aren’t seriously haggling?” he said.

“A fresh shirt and pants every day or no deal.” Yuuri tapped his foot, waiting for an answer. 

Victor narrowed his eyes. “Fresh shirt and socks.”

“Non-negotiable. Shirt and pants. And you let me bathe again when I need to.”

“Deal, but only if I’m allowed to wash your hair.” Victor smiled, smug like this was what he wanted all along. 

Yuuri seethed. He shook his head. He wouldn’t have to put up with this for long, he hoped. Either Victor drowned him, or Yuuri escaped. He let the shirt fall to the floor, dropped the lacy briefs, and stepped into the tub as it finished filling, refusing to give Victor the pleasure of continuing this discussion. 

Victor turned the tap off. He shed his shirt, leaving it folded on the counter. Yuuri glared up at him, then suddenly found he couldn’t breathe. 

Victor was ripped. Not in a “steroids and a tiny dick” kind of way, but in an honest to god, daily workouts and training regimen kind of way. The nice shirts he wore daily hid the way his body was rippling with lean muscle. 

And his chest. Oh god, his chest was the kind that Yuuri would have drooled over if he’d seen it in magazines. No one took gravure shoots of CEOs and businessmen. But damn, they needed to. 

Yuuri could see the hard lines where a dancer needed to be strong. Victor didn’t dance onstage anymore, but he hadn’t seemed to have let himself go in the time since his retirement. Sculpted chest, rippling abs...

Victor pushed his hair back from his face with a camera-ready smile. Yuuri sank deeper into the bubbles with a huff, tearing his eyes away. It didn’t matter that Victor was physically attractive in the objective sense of the words. 

He was a disgusting monster. Yuuri removed his glasses, placing them on the counter beside the the tub. Then he submerged his head and shook it back and forth underwater. He kept his head under the surface until his lungs screamed, and he surfaced, gasping for air. 

Victor was watching him. His expression was neutral, but in his eyes, there was something suspiciously calculating. The smiling Victor was gone. This Victor was the unpredictable one, the Victor that Yuuri didn’t and could never understand. This was the Victor that killed countless men and women. 

Those hands moved closer. Hands that had ended lives. Yuuri flinched as they touched him, expecting to be shoved under the water, for them to encircle his neck and squeeze until he couldn’t breathe. They settled on his scalp with a featherlight touch. 

He held his breath as Victor slid his fingers through Yuuri’s hair, cupping water in his palm and gently pouring it over his head. 

“You’re shaking,” Victor observed.

Yuuri closed his eyes. His hands were clenched into fists, and he tried to keep from twitching at the words. No fear. No showing Victor how scared he truly was. He took a shaky breath as Victor reached for a bottle of shampoo. 

He heard the cap pop, and a sweet smell filled the air. Victor’s hands were cool as he brought them back, scrubbing firmly up into Yuuri’s hair, dragging his nails over the scalp and scrubbing. It had been so long since Yuuri’s hair had been properly washed that the shampoo didn’t even foam up. 

Victor rinsed, and he washed it a second time, this time building up a proper lather. Yuuri’s breath slowed slightly. His muscles didn’t unclench the entire time, but his heart slowed down slightly, enough that he didn’t think he’d have a coronary in the tub. 

Victor was silent the entire time. “You’re so frightened. Are you afraid I’m going to murder you in the tub? I would give you something more dignified than that,” he scoffed.

Yuuri shook his head. “No, it’s not that. And I’m not scared.”

“You certainly are, even if you won’t admit it. Fine, I’ll accept you’re not scared of being murdered here. Scared I’m going to assault you?”

“No,” Yuuri said quickly, but he couldn’t lie to himself, not entirely. A part of him flared with fear. If Victor started something, skin slick with soapy water would make fighting him off would be harder than ever- “Seriously, no,” Yuuri insisted.

Victor raked his fingers up Yuuri’s scalp and then down, tickling Yuuri’s nape. Yuuri could barely muffle the little groan. It felt good, and he hadn’t expected that at all. Disgust bubbled inside him. 

Victor hummed lightly, as if considering where to begin. “I have no interest in sexual assault. If I wanted to have sex with someone, I would go out and do it, and I would proposition them properly. Rapists are detestable, and I find them morally abhorrent.”

“ _ Morally abhorrent,” _ Yuuri echoed. He tipped his head back, finally looking Victor in the eye. “You’re unbelievable. Says the man who  _ kills _ people. What’s the difference between rape and murder, then?”

“Rape makes weak men fool themselves into thinking they’re strong. Murder makes strong men see they still have so far to go,” Victor said simply. 

Yuuri narrowed his eyes. “And that makes sense to you?”

“Rape is not sexual, Yuuri. It is a display of aggression, power, and domination. It is the impulse of inferior humans to seek out feelings of superiority over others. Murder, however, is often  _ extremely _ sexual. There’s something so symbolic in the drive of a knife into flesh, thrusting like a cock into an orgasmic body. Something… scintillating and alive. It staves off the hunger.”

“You kill because you’re horny? You’re disgusting,” Yuuri said. He submerged himself deeper in the water. Air bubbled around his nose. 

Victor continued scrubbing. “No, I don’t kill because I’m horny, Yuuri. It’s so much more than that. Rape is harsh. Brutal. Barbaric. Disgusting. Death is not. The final moments are the peak of human emotion. A complete release of feeling. Absolution from fear. It is… beautiful.”

“You keep saying beautiful. Beautiful this, beautiful that. Do you even know what it means?” Yuuri scoffed. “What if what you think is beautiful is what I think is ugly?”

“Then perhaps it’s just my job to show exactly why it is I find something beautiful,” Victor said. “Tip your head back, let me rinse you.”

“Why?” Yuuri said.

“Because if I don’t rinse, then you’ll get soap in your eyes,” Victor said very seriously.

Yuuri sputtered. “N-no, I mean. Why are you doing all this? Why haven’t you killed me yet? Why are you keeping me here? Why are you arguing with me to  _ wash my hair? _ Because none of this makes any sense and I’m drawing blanks trying to understand what’s going on.”

Victor hummed again, louder this time. “It’s because I want to. Do I need another reason than that?”

Yuuri lapsed into unhappy silence as Victor conditioned his hair. It set for a few quiet moments before Victor began to rinse the conditioner out as well. 

If Victor wanted him dead, it was simple and straightforward to understand. But this was throwing everything off-balance. It was impossible to guess what Victor would do next, how long this period of temporary respite would last, and how badly it would end when it all came crashing down around him. 

Yuuri was given a towel, a fresh white button up shirt, slightly too big for him and hitting his thighs, and a pair of soft leggings that were a bit long on him. He combed his hair in silence. Victor had left the room when Yuuri wasn’t looking, and when Yuuri tried the door, he grumbled as he found it locked. 

Left alone, Yuuri circled back through Victor’s bedroom. He wasn’t going to be so foolish as to return to his studio prison like last time. He plopped himself on the bed, wet hair still dripping into his shoulders, his glasses slightly fogged. 

It was so easy when Victor was threatening to kill him. But this? Yuuri couldn’t begin to know what to think. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri drinks too much. Something gives.

**April 29, 2019**

Yuuri had a dog once. 

As a child, he’d run out into the street. His parents had been upset with him, but at the time, Yuuri hadn’t thought about it at all. There was a puppy in the middle of the road. Yuuri couldn’t bear the thought of it being hit, and he’d charged after it. 

Victor said he liked dogs in an interview, and he wanted to own one someday. 

It was all Yuuri could think of, when he saw the flash of metal down the road. He didn’t think about consequences or things that would come later. There wasn’t time to think. 

Hours later, the puppy still cradled in his arms, Yuuri had made up his mind. The dog was going to be his, and nothing would ever tear them apart. He named the brown pup Victor. Over the next few months, Victor became Vicchan, after a certain amount of good-natured teasing from his sister. 

Yuuri had a dog once. 

It was past midnight, and the room was dimly lit by the light of the television playing softly. Victor was asleep in the bed. His snuffling snores were almost inaudible, just loud enough for Yuuri to know he was out.

He wrapped his arms around his knees. Victor had left the TV on the evening news, but Yuuri had fished the remote out of his slackened grip and changed the channel. There was nothing good on, but anything was better than this torture.

A whole world outside of this room, and Yuuri was here. A world of death and murder and rape and abuse, of abductions and broken dreams. 

Of dogs who die too soon. Of families torn away too young. 

He curled in on himself. 

Victor didn’t even make him go back in the studio when he’d returned. He didn’t tell Yuuri where he’d gone or what he’d done. He didn’t seem to think about it at all, and all the while, Yuuri had watched the sun set out the window. 

It had been half a month since Yuuri had seen the sun. Half a month locked up, alone, trapped in that studio with no one to talk to, no one to bother him… no one to make him stop dancing if he didn’t want to… no one to tell him to stop running… 

Yuuri let out a breath. 

Victor had come back to his room after a while. He’d smiled at Yuuri, and said “I’m home!” with all that false cheer. He changed for bed, turned the TV on, and soon passed out, treating Yuuri less like a prisoner and more like a house cat he didn’t want escaping. 

He could hear the clock ticking in the studio. Victor’s alarm clock said it was nearly one AM now, and the windows were full of a sea of stars. 

Yuuri eyed Victor’s sleeping face. Could he kill Victor and escape? It was possible… but when Yuuri brought a pillow close to Victor’s face, ready to suffocate him, Yuuri froze. 

His hands were shaking. 

If he killed Victor, wouldn’t he be the same monster Victor was? His hands would be forever stained by blood. 

Yuuri stumbled back, dropping the pillow and shaking. He wrapped his arms around himself and lowered his body to the floor, curling in on himself and leaning against the side of the bed. His heart was racing and refused to slow.

He blamed the solitude. It must have warped his mind. He didn’t feel safe. The room was too big, too much space, and he hated it. But as much as he hated it, the rational part of his mind remained. 

He couldn’t go back in. 

A single step back into the studio and Victor would lock the door. Yuuri needed to stay out until Victor forced him. 

He had to keep from going back into his prison, no matter how badly his body ached for the feeling of safety, of something normal. He missed the feeling of security. 

Something reliable. Something he could trust. 

Bradley was predictable. Input, output, everything was predictable to a fault, and Yuuri got used to that. 

This was reliable too, in its own way. Victor bringing food like clockwork, being predictably unpredictable in his actions beyond that. Yuuri stood up and circled the bedroom, keeping his footsteps quiet. He was too keyed up to sleep. 

The door, as usual, was locked. Yuuri was systematically checking through any possibly hiding spots, but he couldn’t figure out where the hidden key was held. 

Yuuri saw a device attached to the TV, and he squinted at it. He’d never seen something like that before. Was it a weird DVR? He pushed some cables aside, but there was nothing remarkable about it. He moved on, digging through Victor’s drawers next. 

It was a lot of neutral colors, very well made but not super flashy. Yuuri hadn’t seen Victor wearing anything garish or brightly colored, as far as he could remember, but Victor looked far more put together than what Yuuri expected of a serial killer. 

Some of it was dressy, some of it just average athletic wear, but all of it had a kind of exquisite quality in the material. 

Nothing. He tried the door and windows again. Sealed shut. Useless. He flopped onto the floor. He couldn’t sleep. 

He turned over and over again, trying to urge sleep to come. No use. He sat up. He needed to move. 

Yuuri carefully watched Victor breathe, and he snuck back toward the studio. As long as Victor didn’t wake up, he could creep in and out and dance until he was tired. He kept an eye on Victor as he muted the TV. 

His body accepted the quick stretches easily. His muscles had been waiting for this— the stretch, the burn, the glorious feeling of motion. He reached for the men’s slippers, then paused. He grabbed the pointe shoes instead. He triple checked that Victor was asleep. 

The table had been removed, leaving the room with just the armchair and smaller table pushed to one side, leaving plenty of room to move. The first steps were a little clumsy but they became more graceful. He avoided any major leaps, content to twirl and plie and hold his leg up, balancing delicately on the tips of his toes. 

It hurt. God it hurt, it had been so long since he’d done this. He instinctively flinched when he heard Victor shift in bed. He dropped flat footed. 

He waited with bated breath, but Victor’s snores soon resumed. He let out a soft breath and continued to dance until his body grew heavy and tired. He started to slow. 

His feet were in pain, but he felt amazing. He was breathing hard as he unlaced the slippers and tucked them back into the bag. Victor was still snoring quietly. 

Yuuri glanced back at the lock for a moment, studying it closely. It wasn’t an elaborate lock. In fact, it was incredibly simple, just one of the kinds of locks where you pushed the button in. It unlocked automatically when you turned the knob from one side. If you tried the knob from the other side, it would be locked without the key. 

It was simple in the way that Victor could easily lock it with barely more than a twitch of his fingers. On the other hand, Yuuri strongly suspected that he wouldn’t need a complex key to get out, which meant he wouldn’t need to steal the key from Victor again. 

He tested it out, but he couldn’t find anything with the right narrow length and slight curve to trigger the mechanism. 

Yuuri snatched a pillow and curled up on the floor at the foot of the bed. He hated being defeated by a lock, but he could work on it more later. 

He fell asleep easily, his body heavy and exhausted from the dancing. 

When he passed out, it was a deep, consuming kind of sleep. It was like he blinked before he felt himself stir slightly, so faintly that he didn’t even open his eyes. A soft voice floated over him from a million miles away. “You don’t have to sleep on the floor.” Amused. Yuuri rolled over, clutching the pillow tighter.

He mumbled out… something, but even he wasn’t quite sure what he said. He dozed off again, feeling a quiet, fuzzy kind of haze. He felt warmth surround him. He snuggled in, and he slipped off to sleep, deeper and more restful than he had in a long, long time. 

When he woke, it was late afternoon. The clock said almost three, and the sun was streaming sunlight through the window. A plate of food was left on the nightstand. Victor was nowhere to be seen. 

He pushed back blankets and froze.

“What the fuck?” Yuuri breathed. He was in bed. _ Victor’s _ bed. _ Again. _

He whipped his head around, but he couldn’t see any traces of Victor nearby. He couldn’t remember being carried. He curled up, drawing the blankets to his chin. 

A fresh button up shirt and a pair of leggings were laid out at the foot of the bed. Yuuri crept out of the bed, glancing around. How long had Victor been gone? How much longer did Yuuri have alone? 

He took the chance to really tear into the room, searching more furiously now that he didn’t have to worry about being quiet. 

He found more expensive clothes, and a set of extremely nice pens, but no keys. He paused, looking at a shelf beside the door. A set of awards, trophies, and photographs lined the shelf. 

The pictures showed a progression of Victors being awarded with various dance-related honors. The first Victor was very small and young, perhaps only seven. As time passed, his hair grew out from picture to picture. He grew taller. Stronger. 

The smiles changed. They became colder, smaller, so subtly that Yuuri wouldn’t have noticed if they weren’t lined up like this. 

The last photograph stood out. 

Victor’s long hair was gone in this one, putting him at about 20. Yuuri remembered how distraught he was the day Victor stepped out with his hair shorn, but he had been so handsome, so radiantly beautiful that Yuuri had fallen in love with Victor all over again.

Yuuri held the photograph in his hands. Something had changed here. It was more than just a haircut. Something about him looked… terrifying. Victor retired a year or two after this was taken, and he left the public eye for the most part. He took up the role of CEO for a company his father had founded. 

Little was known beyond that. 

Yuuri set the frame back on the shelf and glanced around. It was almost four now. His stomach protested its lack of food, and Yuuri grabbed a few bites of the sandwich and carrot sticks that had been left. 

Feeling spiteful, he took a quick shower, and he washed his own hair. Victor was the type to have fancy, decorative towels not meant for use. Yuuri grabbed one of them off the rack and dried himself off with a smirk. He left it in a puddle on the floor. 

He dressed in the clean clothes that had been laid out, feeling almost human now. Even now, he was still a caged beast, but a little better cared for. 

He paced the room, cold even with the clothes he was wearing. As the hours passed, Yuuri made a rapid excursion into the dance studio to snatch up some of the colored slips of paper. He folded a dozen animals and sent them flying into the studio one by one. 

Time passed at a glacial pace. He drummed his fingers and folded a few more. He watched some TV, but there wasn’t much on, and Yuuri had never been fond of many of the shows. Seven o’clock came and went. 

His heart was racing a little faster. He twitched up to his feet and he paced the room again. He wasn’t really hungry. His late lunch had seen to that. But… 

He was on edge.

_ Why? Why was he anxious? This didn’t make sense this shouldn’t be like this— _

He should be glad Victor was gone. He should be glad for his solitude.

Oh, but of course, it made sense, didn’t it? Yuuri couldn’t risk going into the studio to dance when Victor could come back at any minute and close the door on him and—

Yuuri took a sharp breath. He couldn’t afford to lose control of his thoughts. Not here, not now. He clutched his fists and desperately tried to keep from trembling. He resumed his search with new vigor. 

Several more hours passed. Ten o’clock crept closer and Yuuri’s stomach growled. He sat on the bed fidgeting. It was too quiet in here. Even with the TV turned on to the local news station (still making no mention of Yuuri), it felt eerily lonely in here. 

That was, until the door swung open. Yuuri flinched, falling back into the bed in shock. He could feel an almost palpable relief wash over him, quickly followed by disgust. Victor had a bag of takeout in his hands, and it smelled sinfully delicious. 

“I’m home! Sorry about the wait, Yuuri, I got held up at work and had to say late to make up for everything I had fallen behind on, and then the line at the restaurant was endless,” Victor kept prattling on. He locked the door with a key. It swiftly vanished into his pocket. 

Victor left the takeout on one of the dressers and turned around, loosening his tie with quick motions and leaving it in the drawer. 

Maybe next time Yuuri could strangle Victor with the tie, grab the key, and run? 

Victor smiled at him. “Did you miss me?”

“No.”

Victor laughed softly. He pushed his hair back from his face, the corners of his eyes crinkling. When he was like this, Yuuri could almost see how people found him handsome. He could see why he’d fallen in love as a child. “I’m sorry for staying so late. Don’t worry, tomorrow, I promise I’ll be home by six. Would you like some dinner?”

Yuuri could almost taste it on the air, and it was something suspiciously different. He narrowed his eyes. “Doesn’t smell like what we usually have.”

“It’s my way of apologizing,” Victor said, graciously laying out several take-out boxes. He popped them open, making a picnic on the bed as he divvied up skewers of meat and skewers with vegetables onto two plates. “I thought you might like a change. Wine?”

“I don’t drink before I-” Yuuri broke off. He didn’t drink before shows, he didn't drink before going home, and he didn’t drink while out with friends. This was none of those situations. Yuuri grabbed the offered wine glass and held it up. 

Victor poured a small measure into the bottom. Yuuri didn’t even give it time to ‘breathe’ or whatever Victor must have wanted for it. He knocked it back and held the glass out again. “Just fill it.”

Victor blinked, surprised, before he smiled. “Of course.”

Yuuri’s mind was screaming ‘bad idea, bad idea’, but facing all this drunk had its own appeal. He never remembered what happened when he got shit faced. Losing a night? The thought of it was… kind of nice. 

He sipped the wine this time, letting the taste of it coat his tongue. “This is… good.” He was actually surprised. He tried to catch a glance at the label but he couldn’t see it around Victor’s hand. Suspicious, he narrowed his eyes. “I’m not usually a fan of wine.”

“I would have brought champagne but I didn’t have a bottle handy,” Victor said. He offered a knowing wink that Yuuri didn’t understand. “I hope this is still nice enough to suit your tastes.”

Yuuri sipped it again, selecting one of the skewers of vegetables. He ate slowly. 

He always thought the idea of wine pairings was dumb. Food was food and alcohol was alcohol. But… the two complimented each other. They pulled out the best of one another. Alcohol was poison by itself. The food was one-note alone. Together, they mixed. They became something more. 

Yuuri ate. Yuuri drank. They finished one bottle and another appeared like magic. It burned down his throat and seared through his veins. The wine wasn’t like hard liquor that scorched like fire. It went to Yuuri’s head more like bubbles, floating and dizzy with delight. 

Yuuri clapped eagerly and drank the new bottle too, feeling his head spin and his body grow warm. His reserve melted away in silence. 

He didn’t speak. His head bowed low as he drank more and more, polishing off skewers of meat and veggies with deliberate focus. He swayed in place. 

His eyes hit the photographs and he frowned, eyebrows notching together. His words slurred as he said, “you should have never cut your hair.” He pouted. 

Victor cocked his head. His eyes were extremely blue. Yuuri almost missed the way his lips started moving, curling at the corner. “Does it look bad like this?” Victor asked. 

Yuuri leaned forward, squinting. He pushed Victor’s hair out of his face. He stumbled and he braced himself on the bed, taking a more comfortable position on his knees. “No… but it looked nice… and then when you cut it… you looked different.”

“Different how?”

“Angry,” Yuuri murmured. He looked up at the picture again. Definitely angry. Victor was smiling, but that was an angry smile and Yuuri didn’t like it at all. 

Victor’s smile now didn’t look like that at all. It looked more like shock. 

“You looked angry.”

“I wasn’t angry,” Victor said. He ran his hands down Yuuri’s hips, his touch light. It sent shivers up Yuuri’s spine, and he giggled. It felt nice. They were too close, but the closeness brought a warmth that Yuuri missed. 

Bradley never cuddled him. 

Something in the back of his mind protested. It was hard to judge, confusing and vague and aimless. Something about this was wrong and he couldn't figure out what it was. He fell backward into the bed with a laugh. 

A third bottle came out, this one made to pair with dessert, which was a cute chocolate cake. 

Yuuri’s eyes sparkled. “Cake! I haven’t had cake in- it must have been months-” he babbled, tongue loose from the booze. Victor poured a fresh glass of this new wine and slid Yuuri his cake. He was smiling. His face was beautiful. 

Yuuri patted Victor’s cheeks with a hum and sat back with his fork. He cut off a bite of cake. His eyes went round as saucers as chocolate poured out from inside. “Lava cake,” he crooned. He took a bite and moaned with joy. 

Pink colored Victor’s cheeks. Yuuri let out sinful noises of pleasure as he ate the rest, licking his fork clean with long swipes of his tongue. The wine was phenomenal with it. 

“How long have you been dancing, Yuuri?” Victor asked. His voice was rough. 

Yuuri hummed. “All my life. I got serious when I was 12, though. I love dancing. I feel happy and free when I dance, like I could just fly, like all my troubles melt away.”

“You do look quite lovely. I was at several of your shows. It makes me wish I could see you again.”

Yuuri hummed again, lower this time. “I caaaan’t show you,” he said. “Because... because.”

“Because?” Victor echoed. 

“Because… ‘m not pretty enough,” Yuuri said. He flopped onto his side, sulking. “Never be pretty enough.”

“That’s not true at all,” Victor said. “I think you can become beautiful. Will you show me? Show me the kind of dances you do when you think no one is watching.”

“I caaaan’t,” Yuuri protested. “If I go in the studio you’ll- uhh…” He tried to remember why he couldn’t go in. There was a reason. “Doesn’t matter,” he huffed. “It’s not good enough. It’ll never be good enough.”

Victor rested his chin on his hands, smiling. “I’ve seen your career. It has had its bright spots and dull spots, but I wouldn’t say it won’t ever be good enough. What was that little dance you did last night…?”

“Sara’s- Sara’s part,” Yuuri said, lowering his head. He curled up and started to bawl softly. “I never even got to grieve, she was such a perfect sylph-”

“Honor her memory, then,” Victor said. He stood, and he took Yuuri by the hands, guiding him to his feet. Yuuri blinked up, tears streaming messily down his cheeks. Victor wiped them away with a little cloth he had in his pocket and he led Yuuri gently by the wrists into the studio. “Show me how you dance, Yuuri,” Victor said. 

Yuuri stood in the center of the floor, feeling strange. His head was foggy. Dance… he should dance… A part of him wondered where the music was. 

It didn’t matter. He grabbed the pointe shoes and he laced them up his ankles, tying them into clumsy bows. 

He could hear the music even if he didn’t have it playing. It sang in his ears. Echoing with Sara’s laughter while she danced, while they joked and traded roles like secrets. It reminded him of his childhood friend, Yuuko. It reminded him of happier times. 

He froze in place. He didn’t want ballet. 

Not right now. His head wasn’t in the right place for it. He wanted wild movements and the measured grace of ballet wasn’t going to match the exact amount of heat he had burning in his gut. 

He rolled on the floor trying to shuck the pointe shoes, but the clumsy bows were knotting in his fingers. 

Victor leaned over him, head cocked. Puppyish. Yuuri smiled, because he missed his puppy and Victor’s cute confusion reminded him of better times. “What are you doing?” Victor asked. 

“Not right- I have to- get these off…” He wrestled his feet free from the shoes. Barefoot now, he waited a moment for the music to settle back over him. 

He could feel the beat pulsing with his blood. It pounded in his ears, roaring like a rising tide inside him. He grabbed the wine bottle from Victor’s fingers and drank straight from the top, letting it pour down his throat and leave his head hazy. 

It felt like an eternity ago that he had taken breakdancing lessons, pole dancing lessons, anything and everything he could get his hands on. The memories remained, ingrained in his muscles and in movements of his body. He could hear the low, pulsing rhythm inside him, and he began to move. 

Laughter bubbled out of him. He drank from the bottle, and wine spattered his clothes and the floor around him as he tried to dance at the same time. His body felt light. He felt desire. He felt hot, and he shed his leggings so cool air could bathe his legs. 

Victor’s jaw was on the floor. Yuuri decided he liked it like that, liked the way Victor wore surprise, how he pushed his hair back with his eyes big and blue and wide. 

Something was wrong, wrong, wrong, but dancing felt so right. Victor took the bottle from Yuuri’s fingers and drank some himself, pulling Yuuri into a dance that echoed in his dreams. This touch… this warmth… it felt like he’d done this all before. The buttons on his shirt came undone. 

They were close… too close. Yuuri looked up at Victor’s face. He was forgetting something important. It was right there, right at the tip of his tongue, somewhere in his mind. 

His eyes closed, and tears ran down his cheeks. Lonely, lonely, lonely-

Yuuri didn’t know who started the kiss. 

Victor’s hands held his waist, held him close, letting Yuuri curl around him and their lips roam. It was a hungry thing, the kiss, open mouthed, heated, spilling a river of warmth between them in a messy tangling of tongues. 

Yuuri whimpered as he was spun around, dipped low. The kiss went deeper, like it was reaching into the core of his body. His fingers tangled into Victor’s hair. 

And then the night went dark.

* * *

“Never again,” Yuuri said to his reflection. 

Pain sparked, bright and burning, behind his eyes. The bathroom lights were off, and it was _ still _too bright. He’d found four wine bottles in the trash, their labels written in French and incomprehensible. He wasn’t sure how much was drunk by him alone. 

He remembered sharing the first in a desperate bid to forget the awkward, anxious night. Everything after eating the skewers, however, was a blur. 

He felt a bone deep ache in his chest. 

Victor had left a bottle of painkillers on the bedside table, but there were only six tablets in the bottle. Yuuri assumed an over-abundance of caution. He took three and chased it with the bottle of some fancy pH balanced water Victor had left beside it. 

Yuuri sat at the foot of the bed. He pulled a blanket around him, frowning as he noticed it smelled just like Victor’s stupid floral cologne. 

None of this made sense. Yuuri had the vague impression he had danced last night. A terrifying thought, but somehow he was still alive for reasons he couldn’t discern. Victor had other motives than a quick death, it was certain. Yuuri just wanted to know what they were. 

Was Victor planning something even more horrific? 

He let Yuuri sleep on his bed. Victor didn’t confine Yuuri to the studio, instead giving him the run of his whole room. The wine wasn’t the cheap, five dollar bottles that Yuuri tended to drink. There was something he was up to. 

Yuuri’s bladder protested after long enough, and the headache faded, so Yuuri took himself carefully back to the bathroom to take care of business. 

He cautiously flicked on the lights. At first, he winced, pain stunning and sharp against his skull. He felt his way to the toilet. He wasn’t wearing leggings, just a pair of silky briefs, and he pulled them aside, letting out a breath of relief as he relieved himself. 

His eyes adjusted slowly to the light. 

The walls became a little clearer. His vision blurred less and his head had lost some of the sensation of being stabbed numerous times by a knife. He washed his hands.

His eyes traveled up his bare torso slowly, then paused. He had a dark purple spot on his neck. 

More, there were at least three or four that he could see, some darker than others. He wheezed. His heart started pounding as he leaned forward. A small starburst of pleasant pain lanced through him when he touched them. 

His breath came faster. “Fuck, fuck, oh my god, oh my god,” Yuuri whispered. He pressed his fingers between his thighs, but- 

He and Victor hadn’t had sex, had they? Yuuri would never- he didn’t think he’d been penetrated. He knew the after-effects the next day, the lingering soreness, the difficulties walking. He had none. But the hickeys- his neck-

Had Victor done them while Yuuri slept? 

Yuuri shuddered, instantly repulsed. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe- what happened last night- 

He was spiraling. 

He dropped to a crouch on the floor, clutching his head and trying desperately to get air. Lunch had been left beside the bed, but Yuuri shoved it to the floor, satisfied to see the mess that the soup made over the carpet.

It felt good. 

The tight thing in his chest unclenched as he saw the mess, and though his body didn’t stop trembling, he could feel his mind clear. He glanced at the shelf of photographs and he was consumed with a sudden destructive impulse. No one could stop him now. What could Victor do that he hadn’t already? 

Yuuri yanked things from the walls. He tossed the photos down to the floor and broke the glass with the other frames. He shoved toilet paper into the toilet until it clogged. It was childish, it was petty, and it felt _ great. _He was breathing hard, bulling through the room. Something had to give. 

Yuuri grabbed a bedside table and hurled it at the door. One of the legs splintered off, and Yuuri used it as a crude weapon, smashing at the door and trying to break through. The door was stronger stuff than the table, and Yuuri was left with his hands bleeding from the splinters. He couldn’t feel the pain.

He just screamed, letting out all his frustration. 

He grabbed the body of the nightstand again. The drawer slid out, almost landing on his foot, and he darted back. The contents spilled out onto the floor. 

The lube hadn’t been used much since the last time Yuuri had seen it. There were no keys. But what Yuuri did notice was something falling out of a false bottom- a book of some kind. 

Yuuri picked it up, breathing hard still. He wiped his hands on the curtains on the window, cleaning most of the blood away and leaving a satisfy smear of violent red over the fabric.

His hands were stinging slightly as he pulled the cover back of the unmarked book. He gasped. The book hit the floor, falling open to a random page. 

It was a scrapbook full of photos of men and women, twisted into macabre dance poses and unmistakably dead. Yuuri almost threw up. He turned the pages, finding more and more- a couple dozen at least, one for each victim. His hands shook harder as he came to a page with a familiar face. 

Sara. No- no, no, no- tears streamed down his cheeks. She was posed the way she had been found, in one of the graceful leaps of the sylphide, her arms raised above her head and her face blank with death. 

Her’s was not the last photo. Hands shaking, Yuuri turned the page again. His own face stared back at him. 

Time seemed to stop. His fingers bled into the pages, smearing red. 

There were so many pictures, dozens that Yuuri couldn’t recall ever being taken. There was one of him asleep, face slack and relaxed. Several of him dancing that were from a strange, aerial angle. A few of him ugly crying, curled into a pathetic heap and sobbing his eyes out. 

Tucked into the page was one of the newsprint animals. 

He traced his fingers over the photo of him crying his eyes out, face blotchy and red, eyes streaming tears. He was hideous. And yet, around the photos, there were handwritten comments. 

_ Beautiful _ , they read. _ Look at his form, he’s a natural, I thought I heard music as I watched _

Yuuri’s whole body shook harder. 

“Oh, _ Yuuri _,” Victor sighed. Yuuri flinched, throwing the book out of sight on impulse. He had never heard Victor come in. 

“V-Victor,” Yuuri said. He backed up, shaking harder. He was already tensing, ready for something to give, ready for Victor’s violent retribution. 

Victor looked around the room. He saw the broken photos, the bloodstained curtains, the furniture that was beaten and splintered. He walked up, and Yuuri closed his eyes, bracing. 

Victor took his hands gently, turning them over. They were still bleeding. 

Victor sighed again. “Let me help you,” he said softly. He knelt and started to pick the splinters from Yuuri’s hands, one by one, leaving them in a bloody pile in the carpet. 

Yuuri was stunned. “I don’t understand,” he whispered. His eyes were hot, burning so bad they hurt. He couldn’t stop shaking. He shoved Victor away, and Victor fell back, gazing at Yuuri with wonder. 

“I’ll have to get this fixed, of course,” Victor said with a shrug. He took Yuuri’s hands back into his own, resuming his picking. “But I never liked the furniture in here much, anyway. I wonder how I could redo the decor…”

“I don’t understand!” Yuuri repeated. He yanked his hands away. Tears spilled over his cheeks. “Stop helping me! Why are you doing this? Why haven’t you just killed me already? Why are you doing this? Is it because I haven’t danced for you yet? Is it because I’m not beautiful enough? Tell me, please, just tell me,” he sobbed. “This is torture.”

Victor’s fingers were light as they traced down Yuuri’s cheeks. Yuuri winced. His eyes screwed shut, trying to pretend there was nothing touching him when Victor didn’t pull away. 

Something featherlight brushed his lips. Yuuri jerked, eyes opening wide. Victor’s face was millimeters from his, eyes closed and his lips soft against Yuuri’s. Yuuri shoved him away, satisfied to see blood stain the front of Victor’s white dress shirt. 

“No!” Yuuri hissed. “I don’t want you to kiss me. Not now, and not last night either!” 

To Yuuri’s shock, Victor didn’t smile or laugh. He looked… confused. He blinked twice at Yuuri. “But… you asked me to.”

“I was _ drunk, _” Yuuri said. He was horrified beyond words. Had he…? 

Victor shrugged. “So was I. You didn’t drink four bottles of wine by yourself.”

“You left _ marks!” _Yuuri shrieked. He touched his collarbone where he could still see purple bruising.

“So did you,” Victor replied, pulling his shirt aside. A half dozen marks littered his neck, the tall collar of the shirt hiding most of it. They traveled down his neck, over his chest, ringed by faint bites. 

Yuuri sputtered. “I didn’t- I wouldn’t- I would _ never _\- I’m in a relationship, a very happy and committed one- and I would never do something like this!”

Victor paused. “That’s not what you said last night.” Yuuri blinked at him. “Do you… not remember last night?”

“Why would I? When I drink, I forget everything. That’s why I don’t drink when I’m at home. And that’s why I wanted to drink last night!”

Victor’s face went curiously blank. He glanced at the TV, which Yuuri had planned on destroying if he wasn’t able to escape, but hadn’t gotten around to. He picked up a remote and sat on the bed, patting the spot next to him. “Come here, Yuuri.”

“No.”

“Please? I want to show you something.”

Yuuri squinted at him. He didn’t sit beside Victor, but he did move closer to the bed. 

Victor turned the TV on, then switched from cable to one of the other hdmi inputs, watching with a careful intensity as he fiddled with the settings. A display came up. 

Yuuri thought his chest had been tight before, anxiety ripping him apart. But now his whole body felt like it was bathed in ice. A home security system? 

Cameras. 

There were displays throughout the house, sorted into rooms: kitchen, dining room, study, bedroom 1, bedroom 2, master bedroom, studio, and so on and so forth. Victor scrolled down to the studio one without even blinking, not seeing the horror creeping over Yuuri’s face. 

“Audio may not be the best, but the video feed should be fine.” Victor rewound the live feed of an empty room back to the last time they had been in it. Victor had been recording everything. 

Everything. 

Every last second of captivity was logged. Every moment Yuuri thought he’d been alone, unsupervised, was a lie. 

Then Victor hit play. 

Yuuri couldn’t breathe. He was breakdancing on the video, adding in a few lessons from a belly dancing class he’d taken once, and some routines that seemed more fit for a pole dancer than a ballet dancer. 

Video Yuuri was crying and undressing and dancing like a complete mess, half naked and holding Victor close. He yanked Victor down by the collar, and he kissed him frantically, desperately, like he needed Victor like he needed air.

Real Yuuri sank to the floor, watching the video in horror. “I- I would never-”

“Just watch,” Victor said. 

The video Yuuri pulled away, sobbing harder. “I’m a horrible person,” he wailed. 

“You’re not,” video Victor murmured. He leaned closer to video Yuuri, stroking his hair and whispering something into video Yuuri’s ear. 

Video Yuuri was quiet. He shook like a leaf in Victor’s arms. He shook his head. “I think he’s cheating on me.”

“Who?”

He wrapped his arms around himself and he shook his head. “No, no, it doesn’t matter, I’m a terrible person, I can’t believe I did this- I-”

Video Victor consumed his Yuuri in a kiss, and video Yuuri kissed back. “He doesn’t deserve you,” Video Victor said, his voice hard, hungry. It sent chills up Real Yuuri’s spine, the intensity that it was said with, the heat behind it. 

Video Yuuri kissed Victor again. It became heated in seconds, roaming hands and lips, teeth flashing in the video, moans becoming breathier and more eager. This was where the hickeys appeared, blooming on their skin.

Video Yuuri pulled away and began to cry in earnest, clutching at video Victor’s shirt. Victor hit fast forward, but there was nothing more that happened. Video Yuuri cried himself to sleep, and Video Victor tucked him into bed, leaving one last kiss to his temple before sleeping himself. 

“You see? You kissed me first,” Victor said. “I would never turn you down, of course, but I am not such a lech that I would initiate something without your consent.” 

Yuuri couldn’t speak. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Everything was a lie. It was a lie, every last bit of it, everything he’d thought and expected and assumed. The ground was falling out beneath him and he couldn’t even breathe, let alone vocalize a single one of the thousands of thoughts now swirling through his mind. 

“You,” Yuuri breathed. “And I... And the cameras… and B-Bradley… and dancing…”

He was being shaken. His eyes couldn’t move. He couldn’t see. Everything was hazy and gone. “Yuuri? Yuuri, breathe! What’s happening? I don’t know what to do-”

* * *

**November 29, 2018**

“Oh right, your birthday! No, no, I didn’t forget!” Bradley laughed over the phone. The air was cool on Yuuri’s skin as he walked home, the early winter breeze sending shivers down his neck. Yuuri heard a soft voice over the line. 

“Who was that?” Yuuri asked. Bradley was supposed to be at home, or at least, he usually was at this time. Did they have guests? 

Bradley made a dismissive sound. “A coworker, don’t worry about it. Hey, when are you going to be home? I’m gonna take you out somewhere nice and let you pick out your gift. Would you like that?”

“Sure,” Yuuri said with a frown. “I’ll be home in twenty minutes?”

“See you then!” Bradley said. Yuuri hung up, then glanced at the phone. Bradley didn’t work today… did he?

Yuuri walked home a little faster, uneasiness swirling beneath his skin. But the house was empty when he arrived. 

Bradley walked in right after him, beaming wide. Yuuri let out a sigh of relief. He felt ridiculous worrying over nothing. He let Bradley pull him into an embrace. 

“Happy Birthday, Yuuri,” Bradley said warmly. Yuuri closed his eyes and leaned in. 

The shirt collar smelled like perfume. 

* * *

**February 26, 2019**

Yuuri sorted the laundry in the basket, eyes half glazed. Music played quietly in the background. His underwear. Bradley’s. His. Bradley’s. Some to one pile, some to the other, folding as he went. 

If Yuuri didn’t do it, no one would. 

He grabbed without looking, folded on autopilot, only to pause. 

In his hands, he held a pink, lacy, racerback thong. Certainly not something he or Bradley ever wore. Yuuri felt a sick feeling creep up his throat. 

He dropped the underwear back into the basket, and he put the rest of the folded underwear away. 

The next day, the panties were gone, and Yuuri diligently put them out of his mind entirely. 

* * *

**March 15, 2019**

“What is this?” Yuuri asked. He held a tube of lipstick between his fingers. 

Bradley laughed. “Oh, that’s a gift for you!”

“It’s… open,” Yuuri said. He turned it over in his palm. “I don’t wear lipstick, and it’s not really my color…”

“Well, sorry,” Bradley said harshly, taking it back. 

Yuuri watched him throw it in the trash, face contorted into childish rage. Bradley spent the rest of the evening stomping around the house and fuming about how “nothing I do is ever good enough for you” under his breath. 

Yuuri had seen the color before. He could almost swear he had. He just didn’t know who it was he’d seen it on. It lingered there, at the edges of his memory. 

He curled into a ball in the sheets, ignoring Bradley when he finally came to bed. They didn’t speak. 

Bradley would never. He- he loved Yuuri. He’d said so. 

* * *

**April 30, 2019**

“He lied…” Yuuri murmured. He woke slowly. His mouth was dry, and body felt cold inside, like the pieces of his heart had bled out all the warmth. 

Everything ached. His body was weary and sore and limp in the blankets. He knew this feeling well— it was the aftermath of an anxiety attack. Instead of panicking, though, Yuuri felt almost numb. It would sink in again soon, he imagined, but for now he was as calm as he could be, given the circumstances. 

It was a low-grade, dazed kind of feeling. 

Victor had put him to bed again. _ Again. _ It didn’t make sense. Then again, nothing did.

The little clock beside the bed said it was early morning. Yuuri turned over, surprised to see Victor asleep, face placid in rest. Usually he was up long before Yuuri. 

Yuuri tried to pick at the knot in his chest. He couldn’t run or hide from the things he wanted to avoid. So if he couldn’t run, then all he could do was face them head on. Just facts for now. Deep breaths, count it out. 

Victor had killed others and put their photographs in the photo album. Victor had taken him, kept him in a room, but he had already put pictures of Yuuri in the book.

Had he already gotten whatever inscrutable thing he wanted from Yuuri? 

Victor was… interested in Yuuri on some level. Yuuri wanted to deny it, wanted to convince himself this wasn’t true, but if not, why was Yuuri here? Victor wanted something. 

As for the hidden cameras— Yuuri had never asked. Never considered it. Victor didn’t even seem to think about them. They filled every inch of his house, even areas Yuuri couldn’t access. 

Victor’s face was slack. Yuuri lifted his hand, slowly, tracing the shape of his nose and jawline in the air with his finger. It was a large enough bed that it wasn’t crowded with two adult men. Soft, warm. Better than sleeping on the metal table or the cramped armchair. 

He touched his own lips. That night… Yuuri had kissed him. He didn’t remember any of it. He couldn’t recall what he’d been thinking or feeling, couldn’t rationalize why his drunk mind would want to do something like that.

He shuddered in disgust, not just at his behavior, but at the way he could so easily forget where he was. 

Victor’s eyes blinked open in the gloom. They had a milky kind of bleariness to the blue color, something a little unfocused. He hummed and fell back asleep just like that. Yuuri counted out the minutes watching Victor’s chest rise and fall. 

How dare he leave himself so vulnerable? Was he an idiot? Did he really think Yuuri wouldn’t do anything to him? 

The room was still in tatters around them, the hangings and the furniture in pieces on the floor. Yuuri could easily scrounge up a weapon in a pinch. He rolled onto his back and noticed his hands were bandaged. His feet were, as well, bound in deft, tight wrappings against the aching sores and wounds. 

The proof that Yuuri had spent the last few weeks dancing when Victor wasn’t looking, and it was bared for Victor to see, expertly bound in bandages. 

Truthfully, the most apt expression for this feeling was exhaustion. He was tired of not knowing, tired of being a caged animal, tired of wondering what the truth was, and most of all, just tired down to his bones from his own anxieties. 

“Victor,” he whispered. 

Victor stirred. “Hmm?” he hummed. His eyes half opened. 

“I want to know,” Yuuri said. “No, I _ need _ to know if Bradley was cheating on me. Please. Let me out of here.”

“Can’t,” Victor murmured. “It won’t do any good.”

Yuuri felt a flash of impotent rage. He swallowed it down bitterly. “Fuck you, and fuck him,” Yuuri hissed. He slipped out of the bed, feet hitting cool wood floors. He carefully dodged the splinters on the floor. Fuck all of this. 

He went into the studio, wrapped himself in a blanket, and flopped onto the armchair. If he was locked back in, so be it. 

Yuuri woke up late in the day. The studio door was, as predicted, locked. He tried it a few times, but when it didn’t budge, he gave up quickly. No point in wasting pointless energy on that. 

He turned to the room. The camera feeds were mounted up high. He inspected the corners carefully and soon found tiny devices painted the same color as the walls. He pushed the armchair over and used it to take a closer look. 

They were flush at the wall. He could probably cover them with something, but what would be the point? 

There was food and water on the table, and Yuuri picked at it unhappily. An hour passed. His body felt sluggish. He curled into the chair, trying to figure out why he was so tired. He saw the empty plate of food, the drained bottle of water.

“Motherfucker…” Yuuri grumbled, his eyes growing heavy. He pointed at the camera he’d found, flipping it off. “You- drugged- it…” 

* * *

**April 30, 2019**

It was a rush job. That was all Jeffrey Johnson knew when he showed up for work. 

“Don’t go to the site today, I’ve got an order pushed in from the top.” Those were orders straight from the foreman. They were getting triple pay to have the work done today, with an additional bonus provided if it was done before six PM. 

Their client’s name wasn’t given.

It was one of the stranger jobs he’d ever had, but he didn’t question it. “Pack it up, boys,” he said. A wave of his hand, and they were off. The house in question was an hour drive down quiet highways, off the main road a ways and down a side road. 

It loomed above them, massive and imposing. A house? It was a fucking mansion. One of his coworkers, Stevie, just a kid in his twenties, let out a low whistle beside him. “Daamn, that’s some place.” 

“Let’s just get this done with. Foreman said that the furniture was going to be delivered at three, so let’s try and have this done before then.” 

“Yessir,” the kid said. The other guys followed Jeff to the door. The door was left unlocked for them, so they headed right in. “Fuckin’ hell!” Stevie crowed. 

“Calm the fuck down,” Jeff said, resisting the urge to swat the back of the kid’s head. “Just another job.” But he had to admit, the place was something else. 

A grand piano was seated in one corner, a white couch, a thick, plush rug. the designs all stark and sleek and elegant. There was a lot of money poured into this place. They trooped up the stairs. “It’s supposed to be upstairs. Master bedroom.”

“The fuck happened here?” another worker, Dave, said. Stevie winced as he stepped in. 

Jeff pushed past them. “Something about a break-in, fuck if I know. We’re not getting paid to gawk, we’re getting paid to fix this. Start removing all the broken furniture, then we’ll fix the floors and walls. And don’t touch anything outside of this room.”

“Right, right,” Dave grumbled. The others filtered into the room. Blood streaked the curtains and wood floor with grubby handprints. Broken picture frames covered the floors. The pictures inside them had been removed and stacked up on a shelf. 

Some man with pale hair grinned out of the pictures. Jeff scoffed and turned back, starting to gather up fragments of what looked like a nightstand. 

“Must have been some scuffle,” Stevie said. They got to work, collecting fragments of furniture. The bed was rumpled, but in one piece. Even that had to go. They were told the entire room was being redone. It was going to be a brutal day trying to get this all done. 

They worked in teams, pulling everything out of the room, down to the fixtures on the walls. Stevie poked into one room as they passed. “Damn, even the bathroom looks nice,” he muttered. Jeffrey steered him out of the room. 

They were fortunate they were only working on the one room. It took longer than they anticipated to rip up the pale wood floors and replace it with a dark wood that had been left on a pallet in the living room. 

As it passed one, they hurried to put up the wall coverings and paint the other spans of wall. Stevie peered into the closet. “Rich bastard.” Jeffrey grabbed him by the collar and yanked him back. 

“Focus,” Jeffrey chided. “We’re running low on time.”

It was a race against the clock, and Jeff was sweating as they hurried to paint everything. He took pride in his work and in the quality of what he left behind, and he wasn’t willing to compromise that quality in the name of a rush. 

With everything still wet, they hurried to bring up the furniture as it was delivered. They left it a few inches away from the wall so the paint could finish drying. Shelving bolts were drilled in but left with the shelves themselves resting against the foot of the bed until the paint was fully dried. 

New curtain rods were strung up, the curtains left folded at the foot of the bed as well. 

“Looks nice,” Stevie said with a low whistle. “Can’t believe we did this in a day.”

Jeff patted the kid’s shoulder. “Never had a doubt,” he said. “Let’s get the rest of this cleaned up and head out.”

Stevie nodded. He glanced back, creeping over to the only other door in the room. He grabbed for the doorknob, only to be stopped. “Come onnn, one more room, I’m nosy!” he protested when Jeff grabbed his collar. 

“Not our business.” 

Stevie slipped the grip, and he opened the doorknob before Jeff could grab him again. “Wow, this client is a dancer, right? My sister did some tap dancing when she was little, and it looked just like- oh.” He suddenly started to whisper. “Aww, how cute, someone’s all tuckered out from dancing.”

Jeffrey grabbed Stevie, seeing a dark haired person curled up into a ball on a winged armchair from the corner of his eye. Whoever it was, they were sound asleep, snoring softly with a mess of dark hair falling over their face. He steered Stevie out of the room. 

“Strange though, that they slept through our working!” Stevie chuckled. 

“We’re not here to gawk at stupid, weird, rich people,” Jeff scolded, swatting Stevie on the back of the skull. His hard hat rocked forward on his head. “Let’s get going so we can collect our bonus.”

“Yessir!” Stevie said. They locked the house up on their way out, and that was that. They’d finished in record time, and the job was expertly done. The team would be well compensated for a hard day’s work. And Jeff was looking forward to unwinding with a beer. 

* * *

**April 30, 2019**

It was almost seven by the time Yuuri woke up. He forced himself to his feet, padding around in the ballet slippers. He wanted to dance, but of course, Victor would be watching the cameras, and Yuuri didn’t much feel like giving him a show right now.

Everything that had happened was just another way to throw Yuuri off his game, shake him, unsettle him. The last thing Victor wanted was Yuuri getting comfortable, because if Yuuri got too comfortable, it meant things were predictable, and predictable meant Yuuri would find it easier to escape. He paced the room and angrily wrenched on the door. 

To his surprise, it swung right open. 

It was like a set from a movie. The master bedroom looked like a night and day transformation. In the dark, Yuuri had left a room with a harsh black and white theme. Now the room was warm with sepia tones soaking into the wood. All the blood was gone. All the damaged furniture had been cleared away.

It was spotless. 

Someone had fixed the room. Someone had left the door unlocked. 

Alarm bells rang in Yuuri’s head. This was his chance. He could call for help, he could run away. If his door was open, maybe someone was calling for help already!

No, Yuuri hadn’t seen any indication anyone was looking for him. It was too much to hope that someone would fall for help. He’d have to take care of it himself. 

He bolted for the door to the bedroom, pleased to find it open easily. The doorway spat him out at the end of a long hallway.

He crept down the way. The other doors were locked up. At the end of the corridor he spotted a flight of stairs. A silver head rounded the corner, cresting the stairs just as Yuuri spotted them. 

He froze in place. 

Victor smiled. He held a plastic sack up, this one full of white and red takeout boxes straining at the bag. Yuuri ran forward, but Victor blocked the way, dropping the food to the floor and scooping Yuuri up. 

“Put me down! Let me go!” Yuuri hissed, writhing wildly and trying to break free. Yuuri fought against him, but it was a short-lived battle. Victor grabbed the bag of takeout and marched them both into the room, sealing the door shut behind him. 

Yuuri glared up, and Victor’s smile turned plastic. “I see the men I hired are as good at following commands as you are,” he said lightly. 

“Why don’t you just let me leave?” Yuuri said. 

“Because I know if I allow you to leave, you’ll find yourself unhappier than if you stayed. And I can’t allow you freedom until you understand that.”

Yuuri’s attention caught. “Freedom? You’re going to let me go?”

“Possibly. But we’ll see. I have a few gifts for you.”

“You can’t buy my trust,” Yuuri said. “I don’t want your gifts.” Victor laughed easily. He didn’t seem bothered at all by this, surprisingly. 

“But you requested this. Well, not exactly. But when you ask for things, I’ll do my best to give you what you want.”

Yuuri narrowed his eyes. He didn’t remember asking for anything. Victor set out the takeout without another word, allowing Yuuri to eat. 

He hesitated, waiting for Victor to take the first bite. Victor thought this was funny, from the way he smiled and stole a piece of Yuuri’s pork, plopping it on his tongue. “You’re mad about the sleeping pills I put in your water.”

“Wow, I wonder why,” Yuuri said flatly. 

“I’m sorry, but I didn’t want the construction workers bothering you. It was necessary.”

“Necessary,” Yuuri spat. He crossed his arms. “Just tell me what you think it is I want.”

Victor beamed. “Right. Right. One moment!” He pulled out a box similar to the one already on the TV stand. He hooked it up, and fiddled with it for a while until the display came up in the screen. 

Yuuri went still. It was a splitscreen camera feed of Bradley’s apartment. Only two views were visible. One was mounted across the living room to catch the front door; one was in the bedroom. 

“H-how-” Yuuri said shakily. “How did you even leave these?”

“I know a woman who is very skilled in these things. She installed the ones in my house. It wasn’t hard to convince Bradley to allow her inside, not at all. The harder part, she said, was distracting him long enough to hide them.” 

“When did I say I wanted this?” Yuuri said. “I don’t remember ever asking for-”

“You asked me for proof. You wanted to leave and know for sure. This is better, I think. Especially if you see something you don’t want to see.”

Yuuri narrowed his eyes. There was motion on the camera feed in the living room. 

Yuuri could feel his stomach drop out as he noticed two figures enter the room through the front door. They were giggling, the audio feed crackly and indistinguishable but clear enough to make out two voices. They were clutching at each other, hungry, desperate, cruelly ripping Yuuri’s heart from his chest. 

Victor fast forwarded through their journey to the bedroom, the wild roll between bed sheets. “Infidelity is, in my opinion, the most vile of acts someone can commit. A complete betrayal of trust. Disgusting.”

Yuuri let out soft, horrified sounds. “This is fake. This isn’t real. He wouldn’t- he would never- I know Bradley would never-”

“This is a live feed,” Victor said, looking confused. “I didn’t fake this. I thought this was what you wanted.”

“It’s not! I don’t want your- your lies!” The fast forwarding broke off, ending with the final moans and groans of a climaxing couple. They rolled to their sides. Yuuri fought the urge to throw up. “That’s not them. That could be anyone. That’s- there’s no way Bradley would cheat on me,” Yuuri gasped. 

Lies, lies, it had to be, there was no way Victor could be telling the truth, Yuuri didn’t want to believe him-

Victor extended a hand, cell phone in his palm. “Why don’t you give your Bradley a call?”

Yuuri snatched it up, mind in turmoil, hands trembling as he dialed the familiar number. 

The dial tone rang through the TV screen. The man on the screen rolled over, muttering something. A woman replied in kind. “Don’t answer it,” she whined. The call ran out, and Yuuri dialed again, hands trembling. 

“Unknown number,” the man mused. “Let me just see what they want.” The line connected. There was a faint delay between the video feed and the phone line. A familiar voice crackled over both, echoing back on itself. “Hello? Who is this?”

Yuuri inhaled sharply. 

“Is this a prank?” Bradley hissed. “It’s not fucking funny. Leave me the fuck alone.” The line went dead. 

The figure in the screen hung up. 

Yuuri was shaking violently. “He…”

“That was… harsh,” Victor said slowly. He was frowning. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it would be this severe…”

“That woman,” Yuuri said quietly. He knew he’d seen the lipstick before. That muted burgundy color was one she wore almost daily, her pout twisted into a sneer as she attempted the routines Sara had done so much more beautifully. The understudy, Rebecca. 

The one who had called him a whore sleeping his way to the top, the one who told him he dragged the whole show down with his clumsy moves. 

Tears streaked down his cheeks. He grabbed Victor’s shirt. “Make me forget, Victor. I want to forget everything.”

  



	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor tells Yuuri a story

**April 30, 2019**

“Make me forget, Victor. I want to forget everything.”

He crashed his lips against Victor’s. Broken sobs ripped from his chest as they kissed. 

Victor pushed him back. Yuuri let out an angry, anguished sound from deep in his chest. He rose onto his knees, trying for another kiss, but Victor cradled his face. He didn’t allow him to get any closer than this, a few inches distance between their mouths. 

Yuuri gasped, shoving at the hands holding him. “Why!?” he screamed. “You said you’d give me what I want!”

“You don’t want this.”

“I do!” Yuuri sobbed. His hands turned to claws in the sheets. 

“You think you need this, but you don’t,” Victor said, cocking his head. He pinned Yuuri’s hands to the bedsheets, keeping them from surging up to claim another kiss. 

Yuuri struggled and shoved back, only to sprawl back onto the bed. He collapsed into a weak, limp pile there on the sheets, broken sobs ripping out of his chest. “Why? You jerked off to me for a month. You kissed me. You ruined my relationship. What the fuck do you want from me if you don’t want to fuck me?”

Victor’s expression didn’t change. He laid out the food, passing Yuuri a pair of chopsticks. Yuuri stared numbly at them. 

“I never said I don’t want to have sex. Just that you don’t. Because I don’t think you really do. You’re mad at yourself, at me, and you’re mad at… can I call him your ex or is that too presumptuous? Anyway, I think you’re angry and taking it out on both of us.”

Yuuri ground his teeth. He yanked at the new bedsheets, curling his hands into fists. He was bubbling over with directionless, impotent rage. “So what if I am? It still doesn’t tell me why you won’t fuck me.”

“Can I tell you a story?” Victor asked. 

Yuuri blinked, the tears still streaking down his cheeks. Victor nudged the food closer, and Yuuri wiped the tears away, glowering. 

“Once upon a time, there was a King, a Queen, and their son, the Prince. The Queen was not born to royalty. She was found, and married into it.”

Yuuri watched with some measure of suspicion, poking at one of the takeout boxes. He said nothing, however, willing to allow Victor to continue. 

“You see, The Queen was a beautiful dancer, the fairest in all the land. The King sought to make her his, and so he did. For a time, they were blissfully happy. The Queen bore him a son, to their delight and the delight of the kingdom. She danced. She laughed. She was radiance. 

“And for his part, the King was dashingly charming. It was no wonder the Queen had fallen for his charm. They were happy together. In time, their son grew up into a young man. But each parent had their own desires for the boy.”

Yuuri took a slow bite. Victor’s face had gone darker now. A flicker of feeling edged the normally mask-like expression he wore. “What did they want for the boy?” Yuuri asked. 

“The Queen wanted his happiness. And what made the boy happiest was dancing the way she did. He was a stunning dancer. Some said he would be better even than she was, someday. Dancing was his greatest strength, and his grace and elegance were unparalleled.

“As for the King, he wanted the boy to succeed him. In the child’s every waking moment, all of his free time was devoted to his studies. Learning the family business, of course. The boy would run the kingdom. But he had no desire to do so. He only wanted to dance.”

“When the boy’s mother died, he was left alone. Ideally, he would have run away. And he tried, many many times. But every time, he was dragged back. He screamed and fought. But he was made to comply. He had no choice. 

“He was so alone. And the only time he felt less alone was when he danced. He could feel his mother close by. Dancing, he decided, was true joy.

“A day came when the boy was hurt and could no longer dance. To spite the people who told him he wouldn’t, he danced one final season, knowing it would mean he could never take the stage again. The King shortly thereafter died, the Prince took the throne. But the loneliness returned.

“Then one day the Prince met a dancer. He didn’t want the same tragic story of his parents. But when he watched the dancer crying, all his problems seemed to fade away. Things he’d never understood seemed clear. He didn’t want the dancer for a night or a month or a year. He would make the dancer his, no matter what it took.”

His stomach turning, Yuuri set his dinner aside. “What if the dancer didn’t want to stay with the prince? What if the prince did terrible things that made the dancer hate him?” Yuuri asked. 

“Then the Prince would move heaven and earth to make the dancer happy. And if the dancer proved to still not want him, well… the Prince has yet to decide.”

“What if the dancer could never be happy? What if he doesn’t know how?” Yuuri said. He looked away, suddenly finding the interior design of the room fascinating. He stared at the subtle patterns in the rug, picking apart individual fibers with his eyes.

“Then the Prince would just have to try harder, as well as deal with whatever it was that was keeping the dancer from true happiness. The Prince has nothing better to do.”

“The prince has a kingdom to run,” Yuuri grumbled. “Why can’t he just do that and leave the dancer alone?”

“Because the prince would gladly let his kingdom burn to the earth if the dancer so desired. The prince has been alone for so long. And I think the dancer doesn’t want to be alone either. There would be a reason the dancer pretended his lover was true rather than the lying cretin he turned out to be.”

“I think the prince should go fuck himself,” Yuuri grumbled. “The dancer isn’t lonely at all. And maybe the dancer doesn’t take kindly to being snatched up in the night and kept prisoner in the dungeon.”

“Who said the dancer was kept in the dungeon? He’s being kept in the Prince’s special rooms at the top of a tall tower, safe from harm. The dungeons are very different.”

“I think the prince is delusional,” Yuuri said offhandedly. “How can he expect to win the heart of the dancer if he keeps him locked in a tower? It only makes the dancer resent the Prince.”

“The dancer holds the keys to salvation and ruin,” Victor said solemnly. His shoulders fell. “He could bring about the end of the world or he could save it. But even he doesn’t know which key is which. It’s for the safety of everyone that he doesn’t use them until he is certain what he wants.”

“The dancer has already made up his mind,” Yuuri spat. “He knows the Prince is a monster wearing human skin. And if the world ends, so be it.”

Victor frowned. “I never knew the dancer was so selfish.”

“People are complex,” Yuuri said, looking away. “They never do the things you expect them to do.”

“Maybe that’s why the prince is so enchanted by the dancer. The unpredictability. The way the dancer keeps the prince guessing with every turn. The prince adores it. But I always have to wonder why it is the dancer is so harsh with the prince and so lenient with the dancer’s ex-lover.”

“Gee, I wonder why,” Yuuri grumbled. “Maybe because the dancer knew his lover for years. Because… he didn’t want to believe… that his lover would do those things to him. Because…” Yuuri trailed off. His voice cracked. “He thought his lover loved him back.”

Victor cradled Yuuri’s face in his palms. Yuuri flinched as his hands came up, his heart rate never slowing as Victor placed his fingers near Yuuri’s jaw. “The lover didn’t know the treasure he possessed. He threw away the dancer’s trust the moment he took another into his bed. If he loved the dancer, he never would have broken their heart.”

Yuuri’s breath hitched in his chest. He tore his face away from Victor’s hands. 

“I’m so… alone,” Yuuri whispered. “I’ve been alone for… years. I thought Bradley would make it better, and in a way, he did. For a long time, he took the edge off. But… it didn’t make it better, not really. I still felt alone in my own apartment. I felt trapped.” Yuuri let out a cold laugh. “It’s funny. I hate you for trapping me and killing my friend, but I still somehow feel more free to be myself here than I do anywhere else. Isn’t that ironic?”

“Ironic, yes. I can’t give you your friend back, but hopefully I can mitigate some of the trapped feeling. I have tomorrow off. Would you like to go outside tomorrow morning? It’s supposed to be a nice day.”

Yuuri was almost too stunned for words. Slowly, he nodded. “Yes… I would like that. Aren’t you scared I’m going to run?”

“It gives us a chance to see who’s faster,” Victor said with a wink. Yuuri’s cheeks warmed. 

“Like I’d lose a footrace to someone who can’t dance,” Yuuri scoffed. 

Victor looked offended. “I never said I couldn’t dance. Just that I can’t dance at the level I did before. This studio wasn’t sitting empty before you got here, I can tell you that.”

“Is that so,” Yuuri said with a leer. Victor set his food aside. He pulled out a pair of black ballet slippers from the closet and slipped them on, walking backwards into the studio. 

He was still dressed in his slacks and suit jacket, but he set the jacket aside, leaving him in just the shirtsleeves. Yuuri followed at a distance, cautious as Victor walked into the studio. 

Victor struck a pose. Like fire catching, he started to move, a whirling dervish of motion and feeling as he told the story. 

Yuuri was breathless as he watched. The years had been unkind to Victor’s stamina, but his grace was still peerless. Yuuri held his breath as Victor leapt and spun, taking the lead role in several famous choreographies before slipping into some lesser known works that were no less dazzling. There was a slight favoring of his left side, but it was subtle, something Yuuri could only barely make out. 

“Why did you stop dancing?” Yuuri asked. 

Victor finished with a flourish, breathing hard. “My knee.” His leg turned inward, and he limped to the door. He leaned heavily against the frame. “I can’t take more than a few minutes on it like that without it giving out. Walking and day to day activities don’t bother it too much but all the fine coordination is… not what it once was.”

“I knew you were injured but… you don’t look like you were hurt that badly. Not until you started dancing.”

Victor smiled. “I’m glad it isn’t obvious. I don’t like making a big deal of the thing that ruined my life.”

“The Prince didn’t want to take his dad’s kingdom over,” Yuuri surmised. “But the King wanted him to, and the prince did as he was told once he was injured.”

“Yes. Eventually.”

Yuuri’s eyes lingered along the bend of Victor’s knee. Victor was rubbing it out, trying to take some of the pain away. “It was dumb, telling me you have a hurt knee. I can exploit that and get away.”

“You’re welcome to try,” Victor said. He limped back to the bed, taking up his chopsticks again, unbothered by the thought. 

Yuuri lingered in the doorway a bit longer. Finally, he returned to the bed as well and continued to eat. 

“You hate me,” Victor said.

Yuuri choked on his food. He glared. “You’re just now realizing this?”

“I was wondering. What is the thing you hate me for the most? Is it because I took your friend away? Because I hold you here? Or because I showed you that?” Victor asked, pointing to the video feed. 

Bradley and Rebecca had started up round two. It had been put on mute, but Yuuri could still practically hear their moans. He grabbed the remote and turned it off, feeling sick. He looked away. 

“All of it. I hate you. I will never, ever like you,” Yuuri said. His voice was shaky.

Victor smiled. “I love how bad a liar you are. It’s endearing.”

Yuuri tried multiple times to pick up a piece of meat. His hands were shaking too badly, so speared a piece of meat on his chopstick rather than pick it up delicately. Voice trembling even more than before, he said, “I’m not lying. I hate you.” He looked down at his lap. “You killed my friend. That’s the thing I hate the most. That’s the thing I can never forgive. She was… bright, beautiful. She had so much life to live and family to love her. And you took that away. So no, I can never forgive you, and that’s the truth.”

“You said you didn’t get to grieve. Were you not allowed to?”

“There wasn’t time. Life didn’t stop without Sara.”

Victor considered this for a moment. “But you wanted to grieve. You wanted to stop and take time to process the loss. I saw her funeral. No one let you do a thing. How frustrating that must have been.”

“I wasn’t- it wasn’t that I wasn’t allowed- I just- well, things got hectic and…” Yuuri trailed off. “What do you know?”

“I know we have more in common than you’d think. And even if you don’t want to think about it, you know that it’s true.”

Ready to protest, Yuuri almost spoke up, ready to argue again. Before he could, the words sank into his core. Yuuri was quiet for a long time. The words resounded there, pounding against his skull. 

Victor’s story wasn’t guaranteed to be true, but the main beats might have had an element of fact to them. And if they did… “I hate that.. you might be right. In a way, at least. But I am still nothing like you. I would never hurt someone.”

Victor smiled. “I’m not asking you to hurt anyone. I’m asking you to keep an open mind. See my side. Ask me questions and I will answer them. That’s all I’m saying.”

Yuuri made a sound of discontent and rolled over on the bed. He wasn’t hungry anymore. 

* * *

**May 1, 2019**

When morning came, Yuuri wasn’t surprised to see Victor gone. What did surprise him, after he had pulled on a fresh change of clothes, was Victor returning, a plate of eggs and bacon in tow. “Good morning, Yuuri!” Victor chirped, bright as could be. 

Yuuri glared sourly. It was barely 8 am and Yuuri was only moving around with the prospect of escape. 

It was going to be simple. Kick Victor in the knee, run. They couldn’t be too far from civilization. Victor had a job somewhere, and Yuuri doubted he’d drive several hours out a day. Yuuri knew his stamina would be hampered by his captivity, but Victor was injured. He just had to wait for the perfect moment. 

He ate, and a short while later, he followed Victor through the house. He took note of everything. If this went bad, he’d need another way out. 

The house could barely be called a house. Mansion, probably. Castle didn’t seem entirely inaccurate. One of Yuuri’s paper birds was nested in a decorative bowl. 

Victor led Yuuri through a beautiful kitchen to a portico that opened into a fenced-in yard. Lawn chairs were parked in the shade. Victor dragged one out into the sunny grass and took a seat. 

Yuuri took a long, deep breath. The air was a bit cool, but not cold. Spring was here, and the blooms were peeking out from their closed up states. Everything was blooming and coming to life. It had been cold, rainy, snowy and miserable when Yuuri had been locked up. Such a change since that time. 

Yuuri eyed the fence. It was constructed of wood slats, stained a classy dark brown, and at least two meters tall. Impossible to jump. Only a little hard to climb, if Yuuri used the horizontal brace pieces as steps. 

“I don’t usually just sit…” Victor murmured. His eyes were closed. “It’s nice.”

“Is it?” Yuuri asked. He circled the yard once. The dew was cool on his bare feet. Victor didn’t seem concerned. 

Something about being outside left Yuuri uneasy. It wasn’t something he could quite put his finger on. Something about it felt… unreal. Almost too much to put into words. 

Yuuri grabbed a chair and slowly lowered himself into it. It was quiet, except for birds and a few insects, the rustling of wind through trees. 

Yuuri didn’t see any civilization peeking over the fence. He grimaced. Not even neighbors. And the anxious feeling in his chest wasn’t going away. 

“When did you start dancing, Yuuri?” Victor asked. 

Yuuri was startled by the question, but Victor was quiet, smiling as he awaited an answer. Yuuri shuffled his toe through the grass. The dirt was cold underfoot. The quiet stretched on and on.

“Um… all my life, really. My sister did ballet when I was really small and I thought it was cool. But she quit after a year, and I… kept going. It’s… all I’ve ever known.” Yuuri fell silent for a long time. “And you, when did you start killing people?” he asked finally. “Was it after your leg got hurt?”

Victor paused, looking back at Yuuri with an inscrutable expression. “Yes. It was perhaps a year after my injury that I took a life for the first time.”

“So you’re the kind of murderer who does it because he’s jealous,” Yuuri said. He sat back in the chair. “They can dance and you can’t.”

“Not exactly,” Victor said. “I wouldn’t call it jealousy. It’s more… wanting an aesthetic, perhaps? Hmm, that’s not quite right either.”

“You want beauty,” Yuuri said. He remembered the pictures with a sick feeling. “You want to see them at their lowest.”

“I want to see them at their pinnacle,” Victor said. “But, yes, that is usually death.”

Victor wore a peaceful smile, as though he wasn’t discussing murder at all. Yuuri leaned forward in the chair. 

“And me?” he asked. “What is my pinnacle? Is that death, too?”

“I’m not sure yet. But you’re more extraordinary than anyone else I’ve ever met. It makes sense that your most beautiful moment perhaps may not be death. I should like to find that out.”

“Extraordinary,” Yuuri scoffed. “A load of bullshit if I’ve ever heard it. I’m nothing special you know.”

“I disagree,” Victor said. “A dancer does not count his success by his shows but by the shoes he’s worn down.”

Yuuri made an annoyed sound in the back of his throat. He flopped back in the deck chair, staring back at the sky. Blue skies overhead, barely any clouds in sight, and here he was feeling like he could barely breathe. The clenching in his chest was getting worse by the minute. 

“You seem paler than normal,” Victor murmured. “Is everything alright?”

“If I got more sun, I would probably be less pale,” Yuuri said. 

Victor hummed, smiling. “Then we can make this a habit, if you like?”

A visceral flash of panic seized him. Suddenly it felt like he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak. He pried his fingers off the deck chair and forced himself to his feet. 

He found himself walking into the shade of the portico, leaning against the columns where it felt several degrees cooler. He shivered. 

“Done already?” Victor said. 

“I’m cold. I want to go back inside.”

The words sounded alien, but even as he said them, they rang painfully true. He didn’t want to be outside another second. 

“We can stay out here if you want? You aren’t even going to try and escape?” Victor was trying to tease him, but Yuuri turned on his heel and walked back into the house. 

He stopped in the kitchen. A small cellophane bag of cookies was twisted closed on the counter. It crinkled noisily as he snagged one and darted up the stairs. 

His heart rate didn’t slow until he was back in Victor’s bedroom.

“Those were for special treats,” Victor laughed, not looking bothered much. “Too many sweets aren’t good for you. You looked so cute and chubby when you got here, but it isn’t good for dancing.”

“One cookie won’t kill me,” Yuuri said. He crossed his legs on the bed. The silence left his mind feeling ragged and rough, almost unbearably so. He curled his icy toes into the covers to warm them. “I have questions.”

“Go ahead,” Victor said. He sat on a small chaise chair beside the dresser, where he could see Yuuri without turning his head. 

“The Queen,” Yuuri said, “How did she die?”

“Of a broken heart,” Victor replied. Yuuri narrowed his eyes. 

“Did the king cheat on her? Or was it something else? And did the prince know why?”

“The prince didn’t suspect for a very long time. He was quite young. But he started to notice the clues that the Queen had seen long, long ago. She knew her beauty was ephemeral, and that the King was vain. The Queen didn’t want to admit it, not to her servants, not to her son, not even to herself.”

“She pretended everything was okay?”

“She tried,” Victor said. “One day it was too much. The prince found her in her chambers, sprawled on the floor with her beautiful golden hair spilling over the tile. She had no breath on her lips, no color in her cheeks. He didn’t know what had caused it. They found evidence of an overdose in her system later.”

“Did the prince love her?” Yuuri asked. He watched Victor’s eyes flutter shut as he let out a breath. 

“He did. His mother was the one who kept his secrets, who gave him a place to run to when his father became too much to bear. She would take him in her arms and keep him safe. And for that, she was the world to him. She was beautiful in death. It was the last time the Prince saw her, and he realized her greatest fear was never realized. He would never see the Queen old and withered and grey. She would be beautiful forever in memories of her.”

Victor trailed off, contemplative in the silence as he studied Yuuri’s hands. His lip twitched. 

“It does make me think…” Victor mused, reaching for Yuuri’s wrist. He held it delicately. The second his fingers closed around it, Yuuri jerked his hand back. 

“Don’t touch me,” Yuuri hissed. 

“Now that I think about it… The bruises you wore when you arrived…”

“When you _ brought _me here,” Yuuri corrected. He narrowed his eyes. “What about them?”

“I was just thinking how curious they were. How you flinch away when I touch you…” 

Yuuri’s gaze snapped to Victor’s. “What are you trying to say? Come out with it.”

Victor smiled tightly. “My mother wore the same bruises. She would say she was clumsy. Accident prone. But bruises like that, they aren’t accidents, are they, Yuuri?”

His blood turned to ice in his veins. “Don’t be ridiculous. Bradley would never hurt me.”

“He would never cheat on you either, isn’t that what you said the other day? There are three things that I won’t tolerate, Yuuri, and those are rapists, abusers, and liars. Luckily you are a terrible liar, or I’d have more cause for concern.”

“I haven’t lied!” Yuuri screamed. “He- he gets overzealous sometimes- you know, sometimes he just isn’t good at controlling himself- he doesn’t mean it-”

“Excuses,” Victor said. “Do you hear yourself? Think back, the last time those bruises appeared on your skin.”

“It was nothing I didn’t deserve,” Yuuri spat. 

Victor smiled. It was the coldest smile yet, and it left Yuuri’s stomach sinking. “I see,” Victor said at last. “I understand this all perfectly. Self-flagellation, is it? There are safer ways to punish yourself than allowing someone to abuse you. The way you flinch from me, the way you talk. Does he force himself on you, too?”

“N-no!” Yuuri sputtered. He could feel the panic rising in his chest. The room was too big, too open. He pushed himself back across the bed to put more distance between him and Victor. But Victor closed the gap, rising onto his knees to follow. He reached to grab Yuuri by the wrists. Yuuri screamed, “Let me go, please- please-”

He was sobbing when Victor pulled back. 

“I’ve seen more than enough,” Victor said. “Your ex is a detestable excuse for a human being. Did he ever force himself on you too?”

“It’s not about me,” Yuuri hissed. 

“Right now, it is. So tell me, has he ever initiated something you didn’t want? Tell you to lay back and let him continue, even when you told him to stop?”

“That’s what being a couple is like,” Yuuri hissed. “You don’t always want sex at the same time. Sometimes you- you just- compromise-”

“It’s not compromise. Couples stop when one says no.”

Yuuri’s eyes were burning. Tears ran rivers down his cheeks. He stormed to his feet. “Fuck you, leave me alone! I don’t need this!”

He started for the studio, but Victor stood in the way. “Yuuri, I want to hear you say it. Did he ever fuck you when you didn’t want him to?”

“Leave me alone!” Yuuri screamed. He tried to dodge around Victor. Victor closed the door and crossed his arms over his chest. Yuuri pounded on Victor’s chest, agony ripping through him. He sank to his knees. Something inside him felt jagged and broken. “Please,” he sobbed. “Please.”

“Please, Yuuri,” Victor said. He knelt, pushing Yuuri’s hair back from his face. “Did he tell you to do things? Or did he force you?”

Yuuri saw only blue eyes and something painfully soft. He gasped for air, body trembling violently. He shook his head, again and again, begging it to end. 

“Yes or no?” Victor said. “Yes or no, and it’ll all stop.”

“Yes,” Yuuri breathed. He crumpled. “I- I would say stop. I told him ‘not today. Not right now’ but… he wouldn’t listen. He’d… he’d try to persuade me, and sometimes I would go along, because if I didn’t… if I didn’t- he’d- but I still let him- He, I mean, I still let him-”

“If you didn’t let him. What would he do?”

Another sob ripped through his chest. Yuuri shook his head, unwilling to think about it, not able to say it. “No, no, I can’t-”

“He’d force you.” It was not a question. Yuuri’s silence was answer enough. 

Victor stood, leaving Yuuri huddled on the floor. He draped a blanket over Yuuri’s shoulders, and he stepped away, returning a time later with a mug in his hand. It warmed Yuuri’s palms as he passed it over, the surface of the mug rippling as he held it. Yuuri was still trembling. “He isn’t a bad guy- I swear-”

“Are you making excuses for him, or is he really that amazing of a person that you can forgive him for doing this?”

Yuuri fell silent. “He gave me everything I ever wanted. He gave me a place to dance. He gave me a place to dream of something better. I got a chance I thought I’d never get. Then he asked for more, and I thought… that was just the way it was.”

“I think you’re foolish for deluding yourself,” Victor said. Yuuri glowered. “But I think Mr. Bastard Ex is even more foolish for doing these things.”

“It didn’t happen overnight,” Yuuri said. 

He glanced down at the mug. Curls of steam rose off it, and a rich chocolate scent filled the air. He had a wild moment to wonder if it had sleeping pills in it. He found himself almost hoping it did. It was velvety and sweet on his tongue, just bitter enough to cut like a knife into his senses, sweet but not cloyingly so. 

“At first, it was… just small things. I didn’t even realize what it was. Then when I started to wonder, I told myself… I was just being ridiculous. And he’d do such sweet things afterward, trying to make it up to me. Getting me bigger and better roles. I didn’t even feel like I’d earned them… But I told myself, this is what it’s like, isn’t it? This is how it is?”

Yuuri shook his head in disgust. 

“It was miserable. I came to America hoping to find happiness. A way out of my misery. And all I found was more suffering. I told myself I was happy, and I was stupid enough to believe it. And here I am, trapped in a bedroom in the middle of fucking nowhere, and I just… I feel like I’ve opened my eyes for the first time. And I’m so mad!” Yuuri screamed.

He slammed a fist into the ground, shaking his head more and more. He set the cocoa aside. 

“I’m so mad, because I let myself think that everything was fine! It took a fucking serial killer to make me realize that I was just as trapped before as I am now! And now- and now-” Yuuri said. He wiped away tears, crying now from frustration. “I just… feel empty. I feel like everything is gone. Everything I ever wanted, and everything I dreamed of… It’s gone.”

He looked at Victor. He’d never seen such open shock on the man’s face, something so raw and surprised and somehow vulnerable. 

“Don’t just stare at me like that,” Yuuri grumbled. “This is your fault.”

Victor jerked. “I- you’re right. I just- I’m not sure how to fix it. Do you want me to kill him?”

Yuuri flinched. “What? No!”

“Or I could kiss you-”

“No,” Yuuri said, shaking his head. “I don’t… I don’t want to be touched right now.” He noticed Victor scoot a bit away. Considerate. Yuuri snorted.

“What do you want, then?” Victor asked.

Yuuri shook his head, taking another long drink. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “I don’t know. I don’t want anything right now. Maybe… just… I want to understand. I want to know what to do. I thought my life had a direction. I thought I knew what I wanted. But… I don’t know anymore.”

“Do you want happiness?”

“I don’t deserve happiness,” Yuuri said. He closed his eyes. 

“Do you want to be punished for the things you think you did wrong?” Victor asked. He cocked his head, almost puppy-like. 

Yuuri hesitated. “Is it bad… if I said yes? I don’t want anything I haven’t earned. I don’t want roles in shows I didn’t get with my own hard work. I don’t want happiness that I haven’t earned. I want… to get rid of the lies.”

“I will never lie to you, Yuuri,” Victor said softly. “We can be as honest as you want us to be, and I would never judge you for what you think or say.”

“What do you want from me?” Yuuri asked. A test, a dare, he didn’t know. He wanted the truth.

Victor shrugged. “I can honestly say that I have no idea. I want you here. I want you, Yuuri, and that’s all that I want. However I can get that, is what I desire. I want you to stay by my side.”

“You’re crazy,” Yuuri breathed. He started to laugh, delirious, deranged. “I’m… I’m crazy too. In a sick way… I think I never said anything because… I knew, deep down, I deserved the things he did. The bruises, the pain. It was the price of being handed a golden ticket to the top. It was everything I deserved.”

“Never, ever, _ ever _let anyone touch you in a way you don’t want them to. You deserve that much,” Victor said fiercely. He stood, leaving Yuuri alone for a moment. The room was curiously quiet as Victor stepped out. He could hear the soft ticking of an analog clock. The walls felt too open, too quiet. He closed his eyes. 

Victor came back with something in his hands. A knife. He took Yuuri’s hand. “This is yours now, okay? If anyone _ ever _ touches you in a way you don’t want, you stab them, understand? You don’t hesitate, you don’t think. You hit this button-”

And here Victor took Yuuri’s thumb and pressed the button on the side, sending the blade whipping out with an audible _ click. _ It was a small knife, the blade only two inches long, but wickedly sharp. “And you stab them, you understand?”

It was made of a pretty rainbow metal, like an oil slick over the blade and handle. Yuuri’s hand was shaking as Victor pressed the handle into his palm and pulled his hand back. He left it there, in Yuuri’s grip.

Yuuri touched the flat back of the blade. It didn’t give. Victor showed him how to operate the closing mechanism, a small switch set into the handle that allowed the blade to tuck back inside the handle.

“It’s spring assisted, so it’ll open automatically, but you have to close it by hand,” Victor explained. Yuuri touched the button again, and it popped open. He closed the knife one more time. “Keep this with you. Okay?”

“Why do you have this?” Yuuri whispered. 

“It was pretty,” Victor said with a shrug. “If you’re worried, I’ve never used this one before. I liked the rainbow titanium coating on it so I picked it up, but it’s just been sitting around. It’s yours now. Use it if you need to.”

“What if I stab you?” Yuuri challenged, meeting Victor’s eyes.

Victor laughed. “Well, then, I would imagine I deserved it, no?” He smiled, and it was so painfully charming, that twist of his lips, it made Yuuri’s mind whirl and his heart ache. He shoved the knife into the waistband of the leggings, keeping it close. 

Victor offered Yuuri a hand. Yuuri took it, allowing Victor to help him up off the floor. “When you said you wanted me…” Yuuri said. Victor nodded. Yuuri hesitated. “You know… I’m damaged goods. I’m not a good dancer, I’m not something special or attractive.”

“I disagree with all those things.” 

“I don’t see what you see,” Yuuri said. “So… when you say you want me here, the thing I don’t understand, when you don’t have sex with me, or make me dance, is what you get out of having me here.”

Victor smiled. “I suppose that’s something we find out together, yes? Will you answer a question for me, though?” Victor asked. Yuuri made a small, curious hum. “Did you not enjoy going outside? I thought you wanted to leave the house.”

Yuuri pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders. He couldn’t meet Victor’s gaze. “It made me feel… uneasy. I don’t know why, so don’t bother asking. I didn’t like it as much as I thought I would.”

“Fair enough,” Victor said. “Is there anything else you would like? Something that would make you happy?”

Yuuri scoffed. “Again with the happiness?”

“Something to make it more tolerable, then,” Victor amended. “This doesn’t have to be torture if you don’t want it to be.” 

Yuuri considered it for a long time. The only thing he could think of was being able to dance knowing he wasn’t being watched. If Victor would just give him that… “Would you… remove the cameras in the studio?”

“Done,” Victor said. “I’ll bring a ladder up later and remove them.” 

It seemed almost too easy. But for the first time in years, Yuuri’s chest felt surprisingly light. The cameras came down without much preamble. Victor left Yuuri to his own devices, returning a short while later with a step ladder that put him eye-level with the pinhole cameras Yuuri had found. 

One by one, Victor prized them from their settings in the wall, leaving each of the three lenses in his palm, and the exposed feeds hanging from the wall. He left the cameras in a little pile beside the home security system box under the television. Then he clasped his hands together, beaming.

“All clean,” he said. “The studio is yours to use as you wish.”

“What about the lock on the door?” Yuuri asked. 

Victor tapped his chin. “I think I have a screwdriver somewhere…”

Yuuri watched in shock as Victor left the room, taking the ladder with him and returning a short while later with the screwdriver. He undid the bolts on the doorknob, and then flipped it so the locking mechanism was on the inside. 

“This is how it came in the house, even before I turned it into a dance studio,” Victor said. He fixed the door and stepped back, looking satisfied with how it fit. “Perfect. It’s yours.”

Yuuri took to his feet. His legs were shakier than he expected. He tried it out, stepping inside and locking the door. There was a strange measure of satisfaction. He had a room that was _ his,_ something that Victor left to be controlled by Yuuri. 

He opened the door again. “So, how is it?” Victor asked. 

“It’s… more than I expected, to be honest,” Yuuri said, glancing around. He couldn’t help the uneasiness, the waiting he would likely do forever, expecting the other shoe to drop. Something would give eventually. This illusion of security would shatter. 

“Then use it,” Victor said. He gestured back at the room. “Prove to me that you can use it more than I ever would. _ Earn it._”  



	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri gets sick

**May 6, 2019**

“_Earn it_,” Victor had said. 

Earn it, Yuuri would. Days passed by, and those words had lit a fire in him. Distance wrought a change in him that even Yuuri could see, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it. 

He had nothing to prove to Victor. He had no reason to throw himself at the studio with such a ferver. But solitude suited him stunningly. He’d never had so much time dedicated to dancing the way he wanted, doing it the way he wanted it. 

Even in his youth, when the doors to Minako’s studio were always open when he needed them, he still had classes and responsibilities. Yuuri had never been allowed to just _ dance. _

Day by day, amenities appeared to make Yuuri’s days alone more tolerable. Some were things Yuuri requested, small things like a calendar and new leotards and leg warmers to wear while he danced. Some were bigger things that appeared one day without warning, like a mini fridge full of cut fruit and pre-cooked meals that seemed to have been made in the kitchen downstairs. There was also one of those water purification pitchers that Yuuri kept topped off. 

The arrangement reminded Yuuri of stories he’d heard of ancient times, when patrons would house artists and dancers, give them the world and in exchange they were given the fruits of their artists’ labor. It left Yuuri wondering why Victor tolerated this arrangement. He could have killed Yuuri at any time and yet he chose to let this arrangement of theirs stay. 

Still hoping Yuuri would dance for him? 

Yuuri raised his arms, swept his leg out, leapt and moved like a bird in flight. A bird with clipped wings, maybe. It wasn’t right, not even close. 

He was stalling out. He needed another set of eyes. He almost missed the cameras, if only for the chance to have feedback instantaneously without needing another person. Bradley’s cruelty was at least occasionally productive. The atmosphere of other dancers drove him to be better. 

As much of a dream as it was to have this time, he was dancing in a vacuum. No feedback. No challenge. Nothing but his own measure of success, and his own overly critical sense of good, bad, and very bad. 

The worst, though, was something else entirely. His muscles began to ache. This wasn’t exertion or lactic acid. It was deeper, something that didn’t go away when he worked out. The harder he pushed himself, the more his body ached. He grew tired, almost lethargic. He lost his appetite, and then his nose started to run. 

Yuuri was blowing his nose into a tissue as Victor walked in, a pair of dinner plates in hand. “Allergies?”

“Probably,” Yuuri said, shaking his head. He bit his lip. He hadn’t even left the house in a month and a half, so he was certain it wasn’t a cold. 

He watched Victor move around the room out of the corner of his eye. It was so horrifyingly easy to forget that Victor’s hands were stained by the blood of the innocent when those hands were the same ones giving Yuuri food. It was so easy to forget that this was the face of death when he smiled so easily and laughed so freely. 

This was one of those times when Yuuri _ forgot_. And then it flipped and it sank like ice into his skin— memories of his friend splayed out on the floor, the vision of her lowered into the grave. He went still and he felt sick. 

“You’re not eating?” Victor said. 

“I… I’m not hungry,” Yuuri said, backing away. He sneezed. 

“Sick?” Victor asked. 

Yuuri shook his head. He slipped back to the studio to dance. Sweat cleared his mind like nothing else. Today it didn’t help. All the rote exercises and mindless basics Yuuri practiced wouldn’t make him forget.

It was _ disgusting_. A year ago, if you’d asked Yuuri, meeting Victor would have been his greatest dream. Having Victor so close, almost at his beck and call, was… it was honestly what he’d wanted all his life. He had his idol so close he could touch him, and instead Yuuri could only think about the murder those hands of Victor’s had wrought. 

He danced until he couldn’t breathe, until he was swaying on his feet and dizzy with it. Still no appetite. Sweat clung unpleasantly to his skin, and Yuuri felt tired and gross. Tonight was a bust. He just wanted to sleep. 

He hesitated before opening the door to the studio. The lock kept Victor out. But beyond the studio door, Victor could do as he pleased. He braced himself and stepped out, to find Victor was simply watching television. Yuuri’s meal was gone, but he suspected Victor had put it in the mini fridge rather than throw it out. 

Yuuri eyed Victor. Maybe he’d let Yuuri be. He sniffled a little. Pressure had built in his sinuses all day and it was starting to give him a headache. A hot bath would help, but Victor… 

The second Yuuri turned on the tap on the tub, Victor appeared, grabbing towels. Yuuri groaned. “I can wash my own hair.”

“Yes, but our agreement,” Victor reminded him. Yuuri groaned. Yuuri’s shirt hit the floor with a bit of petulant frustration. Fresh clothes every day for allowing the occasional hair washing. There were worse things, but…

He turned the tap off, then sank into the water and closed his eyes. Victor poured water over his head. Yuuri couldn’t help it, he peeked through half-open eyes. Victor was shirtless again. His breath caught in his throat. 

Why couldn’t Victor be ugly? Why did his body have to be lean and sculpted, his features lifted from a magazine like some kind of Adonis of myth? It would make this so much easier when Yuuri’s heart didn’t race just from looking at him. Habit, his mind screamed. It was impossible to imagine the face of Yuuri’s childhood dreams covered in blood. It was impossible to forget. 

He shook his head in the water. Victor stepped away, grabbing for the bottle of shampoo. Yuuri tensed, the way he always did. 

This was the worst part— having Victor’s hands touch his scalp, raking up his head and scrubbing the shampoo into a foamy lather. He hated the way he flinched when Victor got too close to his neck. He hated the way he went boneless in the tub as Victor washed his hair. 

His breathing slowed slightly. Steam curled off the hot water as Victor scrubbed. “You’re doing so good,” Victor murmured. “Just like this, that’s good.”

Yuuri held his breath. If he could stop his heart from racing at the words, he would. He flinched away. “Ok, it’s clean, I can rinse,” he said quickly. 

Victor’s smile became the plastic, fake one. “No conditioner?”

“No conditioner,” Yuuri said. He was shaking. No matter how warm the water was, his body felt ice cold. He shrank into the tub. 

Victor let out a breath as he stood, taking his shirt in hand. “Fair enough. I’ll leave you a towel and clothes.” He left without another word, walking a little faster than usual. It took several long minutes for Yuuri to steady himself. 

He couldn’t put into words the feeling that had overtaken him. As suddenly as Victor had spoken, Yuuri’s body had locked up. Praise. Unearned, undeserved. _ Good? _ At what, sitting pretty like a docile doll? Yuuri refused. 

He finished washing himself, stumbling out of the bath and dressing in the clothes Victor left him. He flopped into the bed. His head ached and his body was exhausted. Between Victor and Yuuri, there was a carefully constructed pillow wall that Yuuri maintained nightly. He laid with his back to it, and quickly fell asleep. 

It seemed like he’d blinked and found himself sprawled out, congested and drooling down his chin. His nose was stuffed, his sinuses were killing him, and his whole body had that general ‘hit by a truck’ feeling. 

“Fuck…” Yuuri mumbled. He rubbed his temples. His voice sounded nasally. “I can’t be sick,” he said. “I refuse.” 

But when he danced, his body was wracked with shivers, and he ran short on breath so quickly that it made his head spin. His stamina was ravaged. And all the while, his body ached something fierce, leaving him almost graceless as he fumbled through his attempts at something ideal. 

The world grew hazy as he danced. It spun faster and faster, going blurry on the edges. He coughed weakly into the open air. When Yuuri took a step, his foot gave out beneath him. As he collapsed to the floor, his senses were swallowed by darkness. 

* * *

He dreamed of a temple on a mountain where snow fell hard and fast. It collected in the eaves and rooftops, settled on the boughs of pink flowered cherry blossom trees. Thunder rumbled too close for comfort. 

There was a spark. Lightning ripped the sky in two, making the world seem to shudder with the force of the thunderous _ crack_. Smoke curled toward the sky, and the temple was alight in flames. As quickly as it caught, the fire began to rage out of control. 

Higher and higher, the flames licked up the walls. Yuuri ran, desperately trying to find an escape from the temple. But there was no way out. He was trapped, helpless, about to die. Tongues of ice blue fire burned his feet. He turned the corner.

The room was white. No flames here, no smoke, nothing but silence. Yuuri crept inside, closing the door behind him as he did. The ground rippled and turned black, and suddenly he was falling. Wind whipped through his hair. Darkness swallowed him up entirely. It seemed to go on forever, or perhaps only seconds. 

He flailed through the air. Even spreading his arms out did nothing to slow his descent, as far as he could tell. Then, through the shadows, a hand reached out, fingers stretching toward Yuuri. 

Yuuri reached for it, desperate for salvation. He froze when he saw it was stained in blood. 

The world whirled on its axis, and suddenly the darkness was a stage. The lights came up just as Yuuri landed in a delicate leap, twisting his body, dipping low before rising en pointe onto his toes. The audience was cloaked in a thick gloom. Yuuri danced and danced, light as a bird.

There was something freeing about dancing. The terror of falling gave way to the feeling of freedom. This was his stage. This was his dream. He had earned this. _ Earn it. _

He bowed to thunderous applause, rumbling low and echoing through every fiber of his being. He bowed, again and again, dipping low to every corner of the audience as the stage lights came up. 

Every face was Victor’s. 

They stood up as one. A whole army of them rose en masse, streaming on stage in twos and threes. They melded and blurred into a single Victor wearing a dance costume- a dark leotard that accentuated the lean muscle of his body, following the form of his musculature and showing off the taper from his broad shoulders to his narrow waist. 

“You’re safe now,” Victor murmured. 

And somehow, Yuuri felt at peace at last. Victor bowed, and Yuuri dipped into a graceful plié in answer. Yuuri’s costume shimmered and changed. Just like that, he was dressed as the sylphide, gossamer and pretty with delicate wings, sentenced to death at the hands of his own foolishness. 

As they danced, the music swirled around them, the stage becoming the glade from the story. Victor hummed over the sounds of songbirds. Yuuri laughed in delight.

Victor twirled and lifted him, spinning them both before tossing Yuuri out. Yuuri alighted and spun, leaping away and twirled close again, teasing all the while as Victor cajoled him into wearing the cursed silken scarf. 

He brought his arms up above his head, flinging them out with his next leap. Red stained his hands. He tried to keep dancing, but the red covered his arms. To his horror, it covered his whole body, drenching his costume with a thick, metallic-smelling fluid. 

Yuuri screamed. He lost his footing and fell, his ankle making a horrific snap as he went down. Victor stared down impassively. He, too, was covered in blood, streaking over his face and clothes and hands. 

“Haven’t you realized it yet? You weren’t good enough, Yuuri,” Victor said. “You aren’t enough. You’ll never be enough.”

A knife appeared in Victor’s hand, glittering every color under the sun. He lunged forward, blade out, ready to stab-

Yuuri woke up, breathing hard. 

He came to in the darkened gloom of Victor’s bedroom, the curtains pulled closed over the windows. There was a pressure in his sinuses and a pounding in his head that refused to fade, so bad that he couldn’t even try and sit up. He was wracked with violent shivers. 

He ripped the covers from his chest, shaking violently. He couldn’t breathe, and not just because of the nightmare. 

He was sick. 

There was no way around that fact, he realized with a low groan. His body ached in places Yuuri hadn’t realized could ache. He sniffled a bit, miserable already. A wet cloth was balanced on his temple. 

“You’re awake,” Victor said. His hands fluttered almost nervously around Yuuri’s body, brushing his forehead to check the temperature. “Your fever is still high.”

“Ughhhh,” Yuuri groaned. His voice was a weak croak. He reached out weakly toward the bottle of water, and Victor cracked the cap and pressed it into his palm. 

Yuuri drained it, coming up with a gasp. He clutched his head. 

“Nightmare?” Victor asked. “You were whimpering in your sleep.”

“It’s nothing,” Yuuri said automatically. He remembered the vision of Victor painted in blood. He remembered his own shattered ankle. 

He started to cough, huge, hacking, body-wracking coughs that sent his body curling inward. He hoped Victor would catch his cold. “How,” he croaked. “I haven’t even left this damn house. How am I sick and you’re not?”

“Immunity, I would assume,” Victor said, smiling. Yuuri groaned and glowered, sniffling weakly. 

“What happened?” Yuuri asked, glancing around. “What time is it? I don’t… remember…”

“You passed out,” Victor said. He had a plastic, fake smile plastered on his face, and Yuuri couldn’t see what was underneath. “You should have told me you were running a fever, Yuuri. And, perhaps, not been dancing.”

“Don’t tell me how I can and can’t dance,” Yuuri spat. 

Victor dipped his head apologetically. “I’m sorry, I didn’t presume to. But I still found you limp on the floor.”

“I locked the door,” Yuuri said. He rubbed his temples. His brain was too muddled to focus. 

“I do have a key. And when you ignore me for hours on end, I use it.”

Yuuri grumbled but it made sense. Victor passed him another bottle of water and Yuuri drained it. He was desperately thirsty. He came up for air with a short gasp. “You know that pH water is a dumb gimmick, right?” he panted. 

“Reserve complaints for after you finish this,” Victor said. He pushed a bowl of bland looking soup into Yuuri’s hands. 

Yuuri’s stomach turned. He threw a hand to his mouth, barely holding back the need to hurl as he smelled it. His stomach sloshed unpleasantly from all the water. “I can’t.”

“You will,” Victor said. “You’ve been out for a day and a half. You need food and you need hydration. I did what I could to get you some water while you were out but it isn’t enough, I’m afraid.”

“You’re afraid,” Yuuri scoffed. 

“A cold is something out of my control,” Victor said with a shrug. “I dislike it. Eat the soup when you can. At least you drank water; I believe you passed out from dehydration, not the fever. Sleep. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

Yuuri groaned as Victor stood up. His eyes narrowed. “You’re mad.”

“I’m not,” Victor replied. Yuuri sat up, as Victor went to push him back into the bed. Yuuri batted his hands away and grabbed the soup. 

“You are,” Yuuri realized. The clipped edge in Victor’s voice, the curious hard line in his expression. It was small, subtle, but present all the same. “You’re mad at me.”

“Yes, I am,” Victor relented. “Furious, actually. Your life was supposed to be in my hands. But then I came home and I found you unconscious on the floor, still, not moving, covered in sweat. You’re mine, Yuuri. And I don’t like my things in poor quality.” 

Yuuri narrowed his eyes. “Yours? I’m me, not a plaything for you to keep. I’m not a pretty doll to put on a shelf and leave there. And you can’t stop me.”

“I can try. Would you like me to tie you to the headboard so you have no choice but to sleep or stare at the ceiling?” Victor offered. 

“I would slip free,” Yuuri said. 

“Come on, Yuuri, you’re being unreasonable. You passed out from a fever and you still want to dance?” Victor said. “Please, rest.”

Yuuri glared. “I do what I want.”

“Not today you don’t. Today you rest.” Victor moved around the room, pulling out lengths of soft-looking silk rope from an elegant wooden chest in the corner. It hadn't been there before. “I was afraid of this, to be honest. Your blatant refusal to mind even basic requirements of health is _ stunning_. And I don’t mean it the way I mean your ass, Yuuri. You truly are willing to throw your life away so easily.” 

Victor curled the rope in his hands, winding and unwinding it as he spoke, and Yuuri couldn’t help but stare. “That’s my problem, not yours,” Yuuri replied after a moment. 

“Ah, Yuuri, but you see. When you are in my house, it becomes my problem. I’ll give you the space you want and need. But I will be the only thing ending your life, if I so choose. Not a cold, and certainly not your self-harming whims.”

“Why do you _ care_?” Yuuri screamed. His voice rasped up his throat and he winced in pain. For a moment, everything went hazy as nausea crept up. He barely held back the bile rising in his throat. “Why does it matter what kills me? You’re going to do it eventually anyway.”

Victor’s expression turned hard and cold, almost dangerously severe. Yuuri’s blood turned to ice in his veins. “You misunderstand the situation you are in, Yuuri Katsuki. This is not just about your life ending, don’t be so arrogant about that. This is about beauty, something you have no hope of attaining in your current state. Rest, Yuuri. That’s all I have to say.”

Yuuri seethed quietly. A cough tickled his throat, sending him doubled over in a fit until he could breathe again. Victor wordlessly passed him the bottle of Advil. Yuuri grumbled quietly but took a few, chasing them with a sip of soup. The flavor was mild but satisfying, and didn’t seem likely to upset his stomach, Yuuri grudgingly noted. 

He took another sip, and set the bowl aside. His stomach churned unpleasantly. “Why are you helping me? You don’t have to, you know. You could just let me get better on my own.”

“Because I choose to. I took tomorrow off as well. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to let me know.”

Yuuri choked on the soup. “You’re staying?”

“Someone has to take care of you while you’re sick,” Victor said like it was obvious. “You’ll get better faster if someone is there.”

Yuuri sat back, unsure how to reply. He took a sip of soup. His stomach turned and he set it aside. “You should just leave me.”

Victor smiled. “That, Yuuri Katsuki, is the last thing I’m going to do.”

Yuuri flopped onto his side of the bed with a sniffle. Victor offered a tissue. Yuuri could only glare as he blew his nose. 

* * *

**December 18, 2018**

“You really don’t remember anything that happened last night?” Bradley’s lip curled in disgust. “You were dancing on a _ pole! _ In front of very important people!”

Yuuri pulled his jacket tighter around his middle. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know what got into me, I shouldn’t have had so much to drink. I was just… stressed.”

“You need to just stop going to those classes. Nothing good is coming from them, except embarrassing us both. I’ve told you once, I’ve said it a hundred times,” Bradley sighed. “Why is it so hard to grasp? Stick with ballet, babe. Pole dancing is trashy, and I don’t ever want to see you doing that again.”

“Even if it is, why does it matter what I do in my free time? No one has to know,” Yuuri said.

Bradley scoffed. “And what if you fall and get hurt? You’re better than that, babe. Come on, ballet is what you’re good at. There’s no reason to be doing stupid, dangerous things like that.”

Yuuri huffed. He wanted to press the issue, wanted to dig his heels in and fight. Every fiber of him burned to argue. 

“Please, Yuuri?” Bradley asked. “I just want you safe. I don’t want you hurt.”

Yuuri closed his eyes, and the fight left him. Maybe he was just weak or stupid. Maybe he was being a baby. It didn’t matter much, in the end. 

He just wanted someone to care about him.

* * *

**May 7, 2019**

Despite Yuuri’s best efforts, he fell asleep soon after laying down. Every inch of his body ached, and the dreams were as vivid and horrifying as the last time he slept. 

He woke breathing hard, drool tracking down his chin and his congested nose completely preventing him from breathing through it. Victor was on the bed beside him, shirtless and wearing a pair of pajama bottoms. 

Yuuri groaned. 

“How are you feeling?”

“I can’t believe you actually stayed here,” Yuuri said, suspicious. He rubbed his temple, trying to make the pain abate. “What are you going to do?”

“First, I’m getting you more Advil, you look like hell.” Victor swept out the door. Yuuri fell back into the pillows. Victor took off work? Ridiculous. He probably had some ridiculously important duties and he was playing nursemaid to his kidnapped dancer. What kind of sick, cosmic joke was this? A serial killer playing nursemaid. 

Yuuri let out a short, cold laugh that dissolved into a hacking cough. When Victor returned with pills, he set the bottle on the nightstand, then stepped back to survey Yuuri. Yuuri watched him back, wary. 

The unpredictability was back. For now, Victor seemed to want to take care of Yuuri, for reasons Yuuri couldn’t begin to fathom. How long this whim would last, Yuuri couldn’t begin to guess, so all he could do was try and suffer through until he eventually ran Victor off. 

No one _ liked _ taking care of sick people. No one wanted to be sick. Bradley certainly didn’t. One breath of potentially germ-laden air and he would banish Yuuri to the couch for the night. That was _ normal. _

This was not. 

Yuuri snuffled and hacked indelicately. He couldn’t breathe right. The feeling was pure misery, but at least he didn’t have to worry about trying to look good for Victor while sick. He fidgeted. Victor sat beside him, reading something on his phone. Yuuri rolled over in the bed. Coughed a bit. Rolled over again. 

“Bored?” Victor asked. 

“Fuck, yes,” Yuuri muttered. “I can’t breathe, I can’t dance. What the fuck _ can _I do?”

“Can’t breathe?” Victor said. “I did say you could ask me for anything.” He rolled out of the bed and padded off again. Yuuri suspiciously watched the door until it opened again. Victor returned a few minutes later with a small jar in hand. 

Victor swept into the studio and grabbed the stacks of colored paper as well. “I have books downstairs. If you let me know what kind you like, I can try to find something that might interest you.”

Yuuri sat up a little more. “Books?”

“After you can breathe, of course,” Victor said, opening the jar. It took a second, but the faint odor of menthol filled the air, so potent it could break through even the worst of Yuuri’s cold. “Lean back.”

“I- I can put it on myself,” Yuuri said. His face was suddenly hot. 

“I never suggested you couldn’t. Would you please remove your shirt, Yuuri?”

Removing his shirt, being able to breathe. Good. Being shirtless and letting Victor rub Vaporub on his chest? Much less good. He held the hem of his shirt in his hands, debating back and forth. 

“What are you afraid of?” Victor asked, tone light and questioning rather than accusing. 

“I’m not afraid,” Yuuri said instantly. 

Victor looked unimpressed. “You’re trembling. You’re afraid of something. Do you not want to be naked around me? You were never shy before.”

“It’s not that!” Yuuri said. “Just- let me-” He made a grab for the pot of vaporub and fell short when Victor pulled it back. A harsh, aggravated sound dragged up his throat. “Ugh, fine! I’m…” he trailed off, unsure of how to put it into words. If it would make Victor leave him the hell alone…. “I’ll let you do it,” he said at last. 

“I’ll give you the pot if you tell me why you don’t want me doing it,” Victor offered. He made a show of the little jar, presenting it with a flourish like a game show prize. 

Yuuri shucked the shirt and flopped back onto the bed. “Just do it,” he said, clenching his teeth. 

Victor stared at him for a long time, seemingly thinking, though what that was would remain a mystery. He clicked his tongue and gestured for Yuuri to tilt his head up. 

Yuuri hesitated. Slowly, he lifted his chin, unable to stop the tremble in his body as it started to build. Victor dipped his fingers into the jar. He reached out, and Yuuri instantly flinched. Victor paused. 

“Keep going,” Yuuri said through clenched teeth. He was not going to be made a fool of, no matter how ridiculous this farce was. Yuuri’s body was strung tight as a bowstring, pressure in his joints and his chest aching with the feeling of too much, it was too much- raw, primal terror, panic, fear, run- don’t touch me- don’t touch me-

Victor’s fingers touched Yuuri’s chest over his sternum. Yuuri let out a muffled cry. He barely held himself in check, screwing his eyes shut. Bed sheets crumpled in his fists, white knuckled in hand as he stifled any other sounds from spilling past his lips. Victor’s hand lifted. 

“Yuuri?” Victor asked, cocking his head. 

“Just do it!” Yuuri hissed. Victor blinked. Then his fingertips lowered again, the touch so faint Yuuri almost missed it. Victor smoothed the gel over Yuuri’s sternum. Yuuri let out a whimper, fisting the sheets tighter. He wouldn’t flinch. He wouldn’t flinch.

The menthol smell rose up, breaking through the congestion and sinus pressure. 

Victor’s fingers traveled lower, following the sternum down to between his nipples and tracking back up. He splayed his hand and smoothed it into the plane of Yuuri’s chest. Yuuri was shaking. 

“Lovely,” Victor breathed, and a startled squeak slipped out from Yuuri’s lips. “I love how you look when you’re about to cry.”

“I’m not about to cry-” Yuuri began before yelling as Victor’s hand slid up. Too close to his neck- too close- “Ah!” Yuuri screwed his eyes shut, panic overwhelming- he was going to die- going to die-

The touch fell away. His cheeks were wet. 

“You don’t want me near your neck,” Victor said. 

“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” Yuuri said. He whipped his head back and forth, shaking it hard and fast. He pushed back, away from Victor. “That’s enough. Enough of that. I can breathe, that’s enough.”

“Here is the paper,” Victor said. He left the stack of paper within Yuuri’s reach. “Let me know if you want any books.”

Yuuri huffed. Maybe Victor would get sick and be just as miserable. Yuuri wiped the tears away angrily. Victor circled the bed and laid next to him, picking his phone back up and scrolling through what looked like Instagram. 

Yuuri watched, suspicious, for several long moments. But he was bored, he was achy, and he wasn’t sure he cared enough to bother with this much longer. He reached for the first square of paper. 

They sat in silence for some time. Yuuri made certain to breathe on each paper creation, as though willing it to be an infectious carrier that would make Victor sick and miserable. He dumped his bomb of a dozen of them on Victor and sneezed. 

Victor looked a tiny bit annoyed, to Yuuri’s great satisfaction, until a lazy smile crossed Victor’s face. “If you’re trying to get me sick, we could always find a more efficient way. Do you want to try cuddling?”

“No!” Yuuri recoiled. Victor laughed. It broke the tension somewhat, as Yuuri went back to angrily folding things. “Aren’t you scared you’ll get sick? You’re supposed to be scared away,” Yuuri grumbled. 

“Did that scare Chad away?”

“His name is Bradley,” Yuuri said flatly. 

“Bradley, Chadley.” Victor waved his hand through the air like he was shooing away flies. “It’s all the same. A few germs don’t scare me. And if I did become sick, it would only give us that much more quality time to spend together!” Victor added brightly. 

Yuuri choked on his own spit and began hacking and coughing again. His stomach was beginning to ache again, so he rolled over, his back to Victor and the pillow wall separating them. 

Illness gave the world a vaguely hazy feeling. Arguing with Victor kept him right on the edge of awareness, but when the bickering fell away, the rawness and mounting pressure made things feel more gauzy and indefinite. 

Wracked with shivers, sweating furiously, and a tongue like sandpaper, the cold settled deeper into his bones when he became a passive, sick thing. It had seemed to be getting better earlier, but his progress was slipping away as he lay there, sniffling quietly and wishing for death. He felt worse. 

A thousand miles away, he heard a song, something so quiet he didn’t notice it at first. It began as a whisper of a hum, a string of notes that sounded nice together. Then it started to build a little, swelling a bit louder, louder, until it was all around him. 

A pall of darkness fell over him. At last, he dozed off into a fitful sleep. 

He was home. No, not home, he didn’t know where home was. He was in an apartment on the south side of town, nice enough, with his possessions inside. Cohabitation. Two people in a single space. 

Another person. Who…?

Bradley was here. Yuuri felt flooded with instant relief. Bradley, familiar, routine. Something predictable. Bradley appeared dressed in his discount suit, the tie undone and his hair sexed up. 

“Come back to bed!” A voice called from the room beyond, familiar as well, feminine and lacking the usual bite. The world turned to ice. 

“No, no no no, how could you?” Yuuri demanded. He stepped forward. “You took her to our bed?”

“You don’t know your place,” Bradley said. Yuuri faltered, and Bradley took advantage of the moment, closing the distance between them. Yuuri back up against the wall, but Bradley filled the space, growing, overpowering. 

“You broke my heart,” Yuuri hissed. 

Bradley smiled, cold and cruel, pleased at the words. “Oh Yuuri. I’ll break more than that. You’re only good for me when you’re in shows. But now that you’re gone, you may as well just die.”

“What?” Yuuri stumbled back further, but his back hit the wall hard. “You can’t- you-”

Hands closed around his neck. Tears streamed down his cheeks. Bradley held him by his neck, fingers cinching closed around his throat. Yuuri kicked out desperately. Couldn’t breathe- couldn’t breathe- 

Yuuri screamed. 

He sat up, panting hard, sobbing and rubbing his neck. Just a dream. Just a dream. Nothing more than that. He bent double and cried. A hand stroked softly down his spine. “Ah! Fuck!” he yelped, flinching away. 

“Yuuri, are you okay?” Victor asked. He cocked his head. “Is there anything I can help you with?” No no no-

“Leave me ALONE!” Yuuri screamed. He stumbled out of the bed. His legs instantly crumpled like a fawn’s, his body giving out and crashing to the floor. A hacking cough sent him sprawling out as he fought a losing battle to stay upright. He rubbed his neck furiously, checking for bruises, but there was nothing there. 

He couldn’t stop shaking. “Don’t fucking touch me, don’t touch me, don’t touch me-”

“Back to bed, come on,” Victor said. He offered a hand up. 

Yuuri swatted it away. He curled up, hacking and coughing, shaking violently and trying to protect his neck. He couldn’t stop shaking his head ‘no’. “Don’t touch me, don’t touch me-”

“Yuuri, you need to- oh, come on, please Yuuri-” Victor tried to say. He circled around, but Yuuri wasn’t watching, couldn’t even see him. “I really don’t know how to help you! Please Yuuri!” Victor started to pick Yuuri up right off the floor. 

Wrong choice. 

Yuuri let out a scream, flailing blindly, wildly, trying to get away. He broke into massive, heaving sobs. “Kill me, kill me, please Victor, kill me,” Yuuri begged. He spotted the rainbow knife on the bedside table and lunged for it. Victor plucked it up and out of the way. 

His expression turned hard. 

“This is yours to do with as you please. But before I give this back, you’re going to listen to me.”

“Give it back!” Yuuri screamed. He grabbed for it, but Victor was too fast again. 

“Your life is mine, do you understand? The second you came through the front door, you were mine, and I will not tolerate damage to my things that I didn’t cause. You can use this knife as you wish, but your life is not yours to give away, Yuuri. It is mine.”

“I don’t care, I need-” Yuuri couldn’t breathe, could barely speak, couldn’t think beyond wild, animal desires and _ fear. _

“Touching you was a mistake, I’ll admit my fault in that. But this is not a gift meant to harm you,” Victor said, holding the knife out. “This is not death, Yuuri. This is life. And you need to fight for life, not beg me for death. No matter how pretty you are on your knees, begging for it.”

“End me,” Yuuri whispered. “Just fucking end it all.”

“Why?” Victor asked. “Tell me why.”

“I-” Yuuri broke off. He shook his head. “I can’t. I can’t.”

The blade popped out with a resolute _ click. _ Victor pointed the blade at Yuuri’s throat. “Tell me? Why do you want to die so badly? Beg me so prettily and tell me why.”

“I don’t deserve life. I don’t deserve anything, please, Victor, please,” Yuuri sobbed. “Please just kill me already.”

“Why don’t you deserve life?”

“I fucked up,” Yuuri cried. “I can’t do anything right. I never earned my spots onstage. I never earned anything. I fought so hard, all I wanted- nothing ever worked out.”

“Let me touch your neck,” Victor said. 

Yuuri broke into huge, wrenching sobs. “Please, no- please…”

“I’ll only kill you if you let me touch your neck.”

Yuuri screamed, “Fuck you!” He lunged. Caught by surprise, Victor almost lost the knife as he went down. Yuuri got his fingers around it, and they wrestled on the floor. 

Yuuri wrapped his hand around the blade and yanked, insensate, barely feeling the bright line of pain down his palm. It slipped from his hand with a spray of blood. Victor closed it and shoved it in a pocket, still dripping blood. Yuuri tried to shove his hands in after it. 

Victor caught his wrists. Yuuri screamed. It petered out into a cough, growing weaker and weaker, until Yuuri hung limp from Victor’s hands. 

They were covered in blood, Yuuri’s, his hands weeping out from long, thin slashes across his palm and fingers. Yuuri could only hang from Victor’s grip and sob. He was too weak from his cold to fight. 

“I hate you, I hate you,” Yuuri sobbed. 

“You hate yourself. You appreciate me, even though you won’t admit it. Now let’s clean you up,” Victor murmured. 

* * *

**May 10, 2019**

Yuuri slept through most of the day and on into the next one. His eyes were crusted over. He still felt like he’d been hit by a truck, but the achy feeling wasn’t as intense as the previous day. 

His hands were bandaged up. He turned them over, quietly examining the white wraps on his palm and fingers. It made his hands clumsy and unbending. 

“How do you feel today?”

Yuuri jumped out of his skin. Victor was leaning against the bathroom’s doorway, hair wet and chest gleaming. He had a towel wrapped around his waist. 

Yuuri shook his head. “I don’t.”

He felt numb. Quiet, withdrawn. Hollow. He felt nothing. Were they going to pretend last night hadn’t happened?

“You’re really pretty when you cry,” Victor said. 

“I get gross and snotty and ugly,” Yuuri said. “You don’t have to lie.”

Victor smiled. “I’m aware. But how is your cold?” He pushed away from the door frame, picking up a thermometer. He offered it to Yuuri, who squinted at him before placing it under his tongue. 

Yuuri shrugged, glad that things would be left where they were. Physically, he felt better than yesterday, though not by much. Emotionally… 

Victor checked the temperature reading, clicking his tongue. “Still have a bit of a fever. Take some more meds. I’ll see about getting you something to do.”

“I’ll just-” fold paper, he almost said, but his hands were bound and useless. He let out a breath. His own damned foolishness. Who tried to grab the sharp end of a knife? Only a fucking moron, that was who. This was punishment for being an idiot. “Can I have a book?”

“Of course,” Victor said. “What kind?”

“Anything. I don’t care.”

“That’s how you end up with a dictionary, Yuuri. Romance? Adventure? Fantasy?”

“Um,” Yuuri mumbled. He blinked a few times. “Maybe… something classic? Or with a good mystery?” Victor nodded approvingly and stepped out of the room. He returned a few moments later with a stack, leaving them at the bedside table. 

There was quite a range, from what looked like one of the Sherlock Holmes stories, more modern whodunit mysteries, to a few Shakespeare plays. Yuuri picked up the mystery novel and skimmed the back. It had faeries, mysterious murders, and a talking dog helping the main character. He glanced at Victor. 

“How’s this one?”

“Excellent. I like the tight prose and the dialogue feels natural. The mystery is very compelling.”

His eyes flicked from Victor to the book and back. Victor smiled and stepped away, turning to the dresser. He dressed without seeming remotely bothered by his nudity, pulling on a black pair of underwear and then a comfortable looking pair of sweatpants. Victor’s shoulder muscles flexed and bent as he pulled a T-shirt over his head. 

Yuuri looked at the book quickly before Victor turned around. Flipping through the pages was a bit clumsy, but he managed it decently enough. He heard Victor sit beside him, picking up one of the books. Yuuri started to read. 

He felt fidgety. Usually he spent what little free time he had playing games, but in lieu of that, he’d turned to dance. Without even that, he had only his thoughts and the, admittedly good, mystery novel. 

The main character was a spitfire of a young woman whose banter with the magic dog she’d found kept her going through increasingly terrifying situations. She dealt with all manner of horrifying fairy creatures on her journey, trying to solve the death of her brother. 

He had made it through nearly a third before Yuuri heard a familiar hum again. The tune was familiar but implacable, coming from Victor. It continued, softly, sweetly, like a long-forgotten dream. 

The afternoon trickled away. Yuuri spent most of it fidgeting, unable to hold still. He had never spent so much time laying in one spot. Then, without warning, Victor stood and stretched. He left a bookmark in his book, and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” Yuuri asked. 

Victor smiled. “Worried about me? I’m going to start some dinner and do a short workout after we eat. Would you care to join me? Only if you’re feeling up to it, of course.”

Yuuri narrowed his eyes. “Can I work out?” 

“Limited stretches, nothing strenuous, but a little bit of movement could do you some good.” The choice was surprisingly easy. 

Yuuri pulled a blanket from the bed, wearing it over his shoulders like a cloak to keep him warm. He followed at a distance. Victor led him through the hall, down the stairs. The sun was creeping lower through large bay windows, not quite sunset but beginning to draw near. Yuuri sat on an open span of countertop, shivering. 

Victor moved through the kitchen effortlessly. He pulled veggies out of the fridge, cutting them into thin strips. He tossed sliced pieces of steak into skillet, cooking it all together with the veggies and a sauce that he made by eyeballing measurements out of a few different bottles. Yuuri glanced toward the glass back door near the kitchen. 

The outside world waited. Tempting as it was, his body still felt too weak to hop the fence. That was what he told himself. 

Victor served the stir fry up onto two plates, then gestured for Yuuri to follow him. They walked past a grand dining room without stopping. It could have comfortably sat two dozen. Victor didn’t even blink at it. He led Yuuri on a bit further, ending up in a small living room area with couches and a television. 

Victor sat on one couch, allowing Yuuri to sit on the other. They ate quietly.

“Why did you take today off?” Yuuri asked. 

“You were sick.” Victor said it so matter-of-factly, like it was something so obvious, Yuuri should have known without asking. “I’m not a monster, no matter what you may think of me.”

“I disagree,” Yuuri said. It lacked the usual malice, he noticed. He took a bite of food. “Why do you want to… take care of me when I’m sick?” he amended, choosing his words more carefully.

“When the Prince was only five, he fell ill. The King and the Queen did everything in their power to restore him back to health. The Prince understood what it was like to be loved. Then the Queen died, and the King was busy with his kingdom. When the Prince fell ill again, there was no one there to care for him. He detested the feeling of solitude, of weakness.”

Yuuri remembered being small, his mother kissing his temple and bringing him soup. He remembered being banned from the studio until he could recover, and Minako ruffling his hair and telling him to come back when he was feeling better. 

“Being sick is… horrible,” Yuuri agreed after a moment. His lashes fluttered against his cheeks, feeling damp at the edges. “Weak… useless…”

“Exactly. The Prince made the resolution then and there. He would not allow his dancer to suffer a similar fate,” Victor said. “I hope that makes sense.”

“Not really,” Yuuri said. “There’s a difference between being there for family, and being there for… well… a random person.”

“There is a difference between the two. But I don’t see a difference between this and the story. Plus, I adore a pet project. Which, Yuuri, I nearly forgot. I was hoping you would tell me a story of your own. Perhaps why you broke down when I touched you earlier today?”

“It’s nothing,” Yuuri said automatically. It was gut instinct, avoid, don’t acknowledge. “I’m just… a little touchy about stuff like that.”

Victor hummed, unsatisfied and frowning. Yuuri could feel a wave of disappointment coming from Victor, and it sparked an alien kind of guilt. He quashed the feeling quickly. 

“Touchy doesn’t really encompass your reaction, though. People get touchy and they slap you away. I’ve never seen someone react quite like you, like it was the most exquisite torture ever devised.”

“I’m fine!” Yuuri said. “It doesn’t matter. What kind of workout are we doing?”

“Just some simple stretches, like I said. I was thinking a bit of simple yoga. You’re recovering still, and pushing yourself too hard will only prolong that recovery. Only foolish people and children try to push themselves when they’re hurt. Are you foolish, Yuuri?”

Yuuri glowered. “No,” he replied, a bit petulantly. “I’m not a child either.” He sniffled, and Victor offered him a tissue. Yuuri ignored it, sniffling again. 

“You’re so resistant to being cared for,” Victor sighed. 

“I told you, I’m not a child. I don’t need to be taken care of. I don’t need your pity.”

“Pity?” Victor laughed. “You say that like I’m _ capable _ of pity. Yuuri, if I thought you were weak, or some kind of hindrance, I wouldn’t bother with this, nor would I string you up and stage you beautifully. You would vanish forever; no one would see or hear of you ever again. You would be _ gone, _just like that. As long as you’re here, Yuuri, your existence serves a higher purpose than something pitiable.”

Yuuri couldn’t breathe. His eyes burned, hot and wet. “Then tell me what that purpose is! Why am I here? Why haven’t you killed me? What are you looking for? Tell me, damnit!”

“I’ve already told you, Yuuri. I want you, in any and every way I can have you. I’m not satisfied stringing you up. My hunger is not so simple that your death alone will satisfy it.”

Yuuri remembered the book, full of photos, and the pages dedicated to _ him_, the countless photos of him dancing. Victor’s words and comments of ‘You’re beautiful’ stinging his brain like poisoned barbs. 

He remembered Bradley sneering from across the room the second Yuuri’s nose started to run, the moment the sniffles could no longer be excused for allergies._ “Don’t miss the show, whatever you do.” _And the slowing down was ignored. The aches were dismissed as laziness. Yuuri, too proud to complain, accepted it all. 

“Yuuri, my dear, you are _ mine, _until the end of your days, and you will earn every single one of them. You will become the most beautiful creature the world has ever seen. If that means handing you a tissue when you are ill, I consider that a small price to pay for the immense potential I see within you. Don’t be so foolish as to think my attention that shallow. I’m not your imbecilic Chad who will chase another’s tail the moment your back is turned. My attention is all-consuming and single-minded.”

Victor paused, searching his pockets. From the depths of one, he withdrew the familiar, gleaming knife, cleaned of blood. He offered it to Yuuri, who looked at it in confusion and shock. 

“I’ve thought things over,” Victor said. “And you seem clear-headed now, so I’ll offer you the choice. The life I will ask you to live is not an easy one. I will test your limits and challenge you to be more, to reach higher than you could ever dream, my lovely Yuuri. There is only one way out before we are finished, and that is death. The knife in your hands was meant to show you life, Yuuri, but it can end your own life just as easily, if you’re too weak to handle it.”

_ Earn it. _

Yuuri’s blood began to boil. “I’m not weak!” he hissed. He snatched the knife up, taking it in his bandaged hands. The wounds seemed to sting, prickling reminders up and down his nerves. “I’m not scared, either. You aren’t getting rid of me that easily. And his name is Chadeau, not Chad.”

“Like I care about him beyond the ways he’s warped your mind. I want to see you rise above him, Yuuri. Didn’t you ever want more than he could give you? I want to see you take your dreams in hand and fight for something higher than he could ever reach. And I will give you anything you need to reach the goals you set. Show me your fire, Yuuri. It's so beautiful, the way it burns in your eyes. Show me what you can do.”

Yuuri’s eyes burned. His hands, trembling, clenched shut around the blade. It suddenly seemed so clear to him. His voice was barely a whisper as it said it, a revelation uncovered word by word. “When I first met Bradley, he told me I could set Detroit on fire. He told me I would be beautiful. But his reach was too small, and my confidence was… lacking. Where I landed, I was trapped. There was no way to move up.”

“He stifled you and pretended it was what you needed. But you should reach higher than that.”

“I hate that you’re right,” Yuuri said. He couldn’t look at Victor. “I hate that you’ve ruined the life I had, and the happiness I had. But….”

Yuuri thought of the smiles that never reached Bradley’s eyes. The excuses for late nights, the way he was never there when Yuuri needed him. He demanded Yuuri’s attentions when he wanted it, and wouldn’t allow for compromise or balance when Yuuri needed it. 

He would have never stayed when Yuuri was sick. 

He felt the last few streaks of tears slip down his cheeks, the last of what he had to give for the man he thought had been the one. Bradley wasn’t right for him. Bradley sucked his soul out and pretended it was a gift. 

Victor had no obligation to stay through Yuuri’s illness. He could have ignored it all, let Yuuri burn himself to death in his desperation. His bedside manner was not what Yuuri wanted, but it was exactly what he needed. 

There was a time Yuuri would have called his two months here torture. But it wasn’t. It was a gift in disguise, and Yuuri was beginning to see that. 

“I can’t believe you of all people did this to me,” Yuuri said softly. “Opened my eyes. It took a goddamn serial killer to realize my ex-boyfriend was…”

Victor’s expression came alive, and it was stunning. “You see,” he breathed. “There are uncrossable lines in relationships between people, boundaries of trust that must not be broken.”

“The things he did to me…” Yuuri’s breath hitched. “They didn’t seem so bad. They started so small. And I didn’t see… I was too stupid I guess-”

“I don’t like when you insult someone I care about,” Victor said lightly. “When you boil a frog, you don’t toss it in boiling water. You let the temperature slowly rise, until it’s too late and the frog is dead before it can realize it needs to get out.”

“Frogs will jump out anyway,” Yuuri muttered. “It won’t stay in a pot long enough to find out either way.”

Victor grinned wryly. “It’s a metaphor, Yuuri. One I find applicable. I doubt it started with the abuses of trust. Am I right? Was he sweet at first?”

“At first he was wonderful,” Yuuri admitted. “He found me roles and auditions. He has a lot of sway in the dance community. But… he just wants a pretty ass that will let him walk all over them. He wants someone to take his anger out on. He doesn’t want love.”

Victor smiled. He looked so immensely pleased. Some little animal thing in Yuuri’s chest was almost buoyant with joy. “You finally see it,” Victor breathed. “And now that you do, you’re free.”

“The second I go outside, he’ll be back,” Yuuri murmured. “He has sway with every important dance studio in this city. He can blacklist me faster than I can find a new troupe.”

“That’s when you go bigger. Reach higher than he can touch you.” 

Yuuri was quiet for a moment. He could see a failed origami creation on the bedside table, the paper marred by clumsy creases from his bandaged hands. 

“When I was little,” Yuuri murmured. “My sister taught me how to make almost everything I know. She was… amazing. Badass, never let anything stop her. But she had a soft spot for paper. She rolled her own cigarettes, and she folded a thousand cranes hoping it would grant her wish.”

He reached out for the paper. It seemed so fragile like this, wrinkled, ruined.

“When you fold paper, it goes from something plain to something beautiful. But you can’t go back. You can’t undo a crease. It scars the paper forever, so a single mistake can be a permanent scar on the finished product. But Mari… she always loved the ugly little things I made, the sloppy, uneven folds and the creases in places they didn’t belong. She said… she thought they had character. They had stories the other ones didn’t.”

“She sounds like an amazing person.”

“She was,” Yuuri agreed. 

“A thousand cranes?” Victor asked. “That sounds like an awful lot.”

“She wanted the family business to stay busy forever. Her wish was to always have a place to come home to. She finished them and hung them in strings over the walls.”

“Did it come true?”

“Paper gets washed away like everything else,” Yuuri said simply. “A thousand cranes or not.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I want to be free. I want to be alive.”

**May 12, 2019**

Yuuri was feeling slightly better within a few days. The cough lingered the longest, but Victor didn’t say a word when Yuuri closed himself back in the studio for a few hours. 

It felt good just moving. But Yuuri’s desperate need for feedback was growing harder to ignore by the day. Victor had one last day off before Monday, and Yuuri was going to bite the bullet. There were no options left, and Yuuri took comfort in one thing- dancing was not what would kill him. 

Victor had seen him dance countless times on video footage. Yuuri couldn’t be so foolish and afraid. Victor was right, no matter how little Yuuri wanted to admit it. The only way Bradley could ever try and blacklist Yuuri was in local circles. Reaching for higher ground would mean safety, but it meant increased risk, as well. 

And though Yuuri couldn’t help but feel a familiar bite of anxiety, the thought of fighting for something higher lit a fire within him. He waited until their lunch had settled. “Make me the best,” Yuuri said. He swallowed his pride, and it tasted sour on his tongue. “Please, I want to be the best. I don’t want Bradley to be able to drag me down anymore. Help me, Victor. Show me how to dance like you did.”

Victor didn’t even look up from his book. “You know you’ll have to let me watch you dance, right?”

Yuuri took a shaky breath. “I know that. You said you weren’t going to kill me. I choose to believe you for now. And… I’m probably an idiot. But…” He bowed his head suddenly. “Please take care of me!”

Victor finally looked up. He closed the book with a soft _ thump _, setting it aside. “I’ll be brutal on you,” he said. “I won’t go easy on you. You’ll hate me more than you’ve ever hated me before.”

“I don’t care,” Yuuri said. “Make me beautiful. Make me put Bradley and Rebecca to shame. I want to rise higher than they can dream. I want to be the _ best_.”

Victor smiled. “Spite and confidence. Now _ that _ is a sexy look on you.” Yuuri faltered, but Victor’s grin widened even further. “If you want to be truly beautiful, Yuuri, I’m more than happy to take you there. But you have to do exactly as I say.”

“I don’t want to be manipulated again,” Yuuri said. “I don’t want any more of what Bradley did. I did a lot of thinking. I’m not going to allow myself to simply fall from one hell to another.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. Where Bradley failed is in establishing boundaries and mutual respect. These are two things we can correct in our partnership. He wanted to tear you down and make you weak. But when I’m finished with you, you _ will _ be beautiful, you don’t need to worry about that. You will be more beautiful than anyone else has ever been.”

“What kind of boundaries?” Yuuri asked. 

“Well, to start, a baseline of things you aren’t comfortable with. Ideally, I would be able to touch you and pose you to arrange you how you need to stand. But you dislike my touch. And so a boundary would be if I didn’t touch you.”

“You can touch me if you need to,” Yuuri said. He steadied himself, unwilling to be weak. “I can take it.”

“It’s not about what you can take, but what you are able to comfortably stand. If that’s your stance, than perhaps we can try and make you more comfortable with certain touches. But for now, I’ll limit contact with you. This is not torture. This is training. We can begin today.”

“Good,” Yuuri said. “I don’t want to wait any longer, so the sooner the better.” He watched Victor, a bit uneasy at how quickly Victor had seen right through him. 

“There will be no repercussions for ending training at any time,” Victor added. “I am not a monster, no matter what you think, and I’m not your Chadley keeping you trapped doing this until you have nowhere to turn. If you don’t like my training, we stop and go back to how it was before. It’s that simple.”

“Bradley said I could leave at any time. Then he guilted me and whined and twisted my mind until I agreed to his stupid arguments. How do I know that isn’t happening here?” Yuuri asked. “You hold all the cards. You’ve got me trapped here.”

Victor shrugged. “Sometimes building faith is more difficult than building skill. Your training would have to have elements of both, I suppose. I’ll also give you a word to use if you feel I’m being to hard on you.”

Yuuri huffed. “This isn’t BDSM, this is practice. I don’t need a safe word.”

“You’d be surprised how the two tie together. I’m pleased, Yuuri, that this is where your mind went first. I’m hoping to use similar concepts of reward and punishment to encourage the behavior I want in natural ways, as well as encourage a similar policy of limits.”

“BDSM just sounds like abuse to me,” Yuuri snorted. He looked away, feeling sick. 

“Sometimes it is,” Victor said, “when it’s done by people who don’t respect limits. But not when it’s done right. And my hope is that the experience you have here is one you can feel proud of, not something to hide as shamefully as you did with your Chad.”

Yuuri let out a shaky breath. “I still don’t need a safe word. Why isn’t ‘stop’ enough?”

“How often have you told me stop?”

“Um…” Yuuri said. He couldn’t remember. 

“Very, very rarely, when you were under extreme distress. This is not a situation where you should wait until you’re under extreme distress to put things on ice, so to speak. I’ll likely push against your comfort zone. What if you had a neutral command that you don’t associate with last resorts and weakness?”

“I- well,” Yuuri stammered, but Victor had a certain point from a certain angle.“Isn’t a safe word the same as showing weakness?” Yuuri asked at last. 

“It’s different than that. Begging to stop? That is weakness. Taking control of the situation and putting an end to it when you need to? That’s a level of control you need to exert over your life. And after having your trust in your ex destroyed so indelicately…”

“I’ll say,” Yuuri muttered. 

“Trust is something we can try to build back up.”

Yuuri took a breath to steady himself. Begging for an end was weakness, he would not deny. Though he didn’t see how the safe word was any different, he nodded. Trust? In Victor? Hilarious, but if it made him the best, Yuuri would try anything. 

He was sick of feeling trapped. He had been trapped for five years, since his plane landed in America and he met Bradley. He was ready to be free at last. 

If one final fight was what it took, Yuuri was more than ready. This was absolutely crazy, but everything about his life had been crazy. Nothing was ever simple or easy. But if Yuuri graduated from this hell, who knew the heights he could reach. 

Safe word. Something he took comfort in. His eyes fell over the room, landing on the little collection of paper beasts. 

“Crane,” Yuuri said. “If I say that, you stop. Okay? That’s the word I pick.”

Victor smiled and nodded.

His hands had a slight tremble to them as he walked into the studio, Victor three feet behind him. With everything still pushed off to the side, the open space in the room seemed larger. With Victor there, however, it only felt enclosed and dangerous. 

“Could you start with basic stretches and forms, please?” Victor asked. Yuuri took a breath and nodded. He stepped to the barre and began to warm his body up slowly, letting the muscles stretch and flex until they felt more like elastic. 

He could feel the weight of Victor’s eyes on him. 

“Leg higher,” Victor said. Yuuri lifted it higher. “Higher,” Victor said. 

Yuuri glowered. “It’s high as it’ll go.”

“I saw you stretching, you can go higher.”

Yuuri bit back a swear. He closed his eyes and tried to force his leg higher. “It’s not working.”

“Giving up?”

Yuuri huffed and bent his body, straining to keep his balance while he moved. He couldn’t turn his brain off. He wasn’t going to give up, but Victor’s gaze made him feel strange. 

He wanted to call it unpleasant, but that was a lie. He felt frustration, annoyance, but also a hint of a desperation to please. Such a greedy, childish thing inside him. Victor murmured, “Good, Yuuri, that looks better,” and Yuuri’s bones turned to jelly. He barely held himself up with an iron grip on the bar. 

“Let’s see how you move.”

It started rough. It was clear they didn’t know how to work around each other. Their wavelengths were out of sync, and having Victor around gave Yuuri an edge of nerves he didn’t realize he would feel.

He wanted to be the best too badly. His chest grew tight. He danced, but his movements felt wooden and fake. Victor ran him through one dance after another, his expression looking more and more mask-like with each one. 

“I’m doing it right,” Yuuri argued. 

Victor clicked his tongue. “You’re being stubborn. Do the jump again but twist your hips more for me.”

“If I do that, I’ll fall right over,” Yuuri said. He took a step back and demonstrated, almost falling flat on his face. He crossed his arms. 

“You have to- oh come on Yuuri, just, like this,” Victor muttered, reaching to grab Yuuri by the waist. He remembered almost too late, and he yanked his hands back a mere inch from touching. “Ah, shit.” 

“You said you wouldn’t touch me,” Yuuri hissed. He was shaking. Victor took an automatic step back. 

“I’m sorry, Yuuri, it’s habit. But trust me when I say your hips need to twist. You have all this strength in your legs. Use it, and you won’t fall. Why aren’t you taking advantage?”

“I am!”

Victor frowned. “Keep dancing, then. Let’s take a look at La Sylphide. Your portrayal was adequate in most aspects, but in this house there is no settling for ‘passable’. Show me your steps.”

Yuuri danced, ran it through time and time again. But Victor would just shake his head and say, “again.”

“Just say what’s wrong already,” Yuuri grumbled. 

“I’m watching to make sure I have a pin on it. Do it over.”

“You already know what I’m doing wrong so just tell me so I can fix it.” Arms crossed over his chest, Yuuri let out a small huff when Victor gestured for him to run it again. “I’ve done this dance a thousand times.”

“You felt it onstage. Why not now?”

“Onstage was different!” Yuuri said. “It feels different and I’m different and-” He broke off. Victor looked annoyed. 

The mask came back up and Victor beamed. “You’re playing the role of James, Yuuri, you mustn’t forget. Your love for your fiancée is shallow compared to the blossoming lust you have for the sylphide. You’re so blind to your love that you don’t see your dark fate awaiting you. Don’t you feel it, Yuuri?”

“I can’t feel it!” Yuuri said. He shook his head wildly. “It doesn’t… I don’t feel like that. I don’t…” 

“You’re fighting something inside you,” Victor murmured. “You don’t know what it is. You feel the pull in two directions. There is what is expected of you. Be a good boy, do the right thing. Or follow the wild lust inside you, consequences be damned.”

Yuuri huffed. “It’s not… it isn’t right. I mean… I can see why James does it. I can understand wanting something different. Being seized by circumstance. But I can’t get into his head. I can’t understand being the one who betrays Effie’s trust like that. They were engaged to be wed. He had her heart and he broke it. It’s no wonder she went off with his best friend.”

“Then we change it,” Victor said. “Tell me the original story.”

Yuuri huffed. “James is getting married to Effie. The sylph takes notice of him, dances around him, and kisses him. But when James awakens, she’s gone. He thinks he sees her, but it’s only the witch, Old Madge, who tells Effie she will marry James’s friend Gurn instead, and James throws her out.”

Victor nodded, gesturing for Yuuri to continue. Yuuri took a breath. 

“James goes to his room, where he meets the sylph again. She confesses her love, and as they dance, he is enraptured by her and they kiss, but they’re caught by Gurn. Gurn tries to tell Effie, but she laughs it off as jealousy. When James and Effie are to be wed, the sylph steals the ring. James gives chase, and Effie is left in tears, finally believing the story.”

“Stop,” Victor said. “Turn the story around.”

“How?” Yuuri asked. 

Victor tapped his chin. “The Sylph spies two young lovers in the woods. She follows, curious, only to see the truth shortly thereafter- it is Gurn and Effie, who are sneaking around behind James’s back. When she meets James, she is struck with both sadness and envy of Effie, who is to marry James. She seduces James away, stealing the ring and whisking him away from his troublesome marriage before it is too late.”

“The Sylph becomes the hero?” Yuuri said dubiously. His eyes sharpened. “But even if the Sylph tries to save James from his relationship, she will still perish at his hands at the end.”

“We needn’t worry about the end right now. Dance for me the feeling of learning your fiancée broke your heart. Show me the ache you feel when you learn what has come about.”

Yuuri squinted at Victor. “So now James has to choose. Does he follow through with what’s expected of him? Does he follow the allure of the Sylph, knowing what he does?”

“Exactly. When the Sylph steals the ring, do you give chase?” Victor asked. His eyes sparkled dangerously. 

Yuuri let out a breath, deep in his chest. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? Or is it that you don’t want to say?” Victor asked. 

“No, I mean… yes, well, maybe- It doesn't matter. For the sake of the story, we both know he does.”

“This isn’t the story right now, Yuuri. I don’t want to know what James does. What does Yuuri do? And why doesn’t Yuuri want to say?”

Yuuri sighed. He looked down at his feet. They would be in shreds tonight. He shuffled them, putting off his answer. Victor waited in silence for him. He wouldn’t move until he had his answer, and though Yuuri was stubborn, he wasn’t keen on wasting his time either. 

“I guess… I lack confidence in my choices. That’s why I don’t like picking,” he admitted at last. 

“What are you dancing for?” Victor asked sharply. 

Yuuri, startled, blinked rapidly. “To be the best?”

“Wrong answer. Don’t worry about that right now. Dance for your audience. Dance for yourself. Dance for me, and for no one else. Don’t worry about Bradley and Rebecca right now. Forget them entirely. When you dance, what makes you falter? What makes you fall short in the end?”

Yuuri thought back to the disastrous near-touch of earlier. “I’m not strong enough yet,” Yuuri said at last. 

Victor gestured to Yuuri’s thighs. “You could pop a watermelon between those thighs, don’t think I don’t want to try it. Try again.”

Yuuri felt a flash of impotent frustration. “Fine! I’m not strong enough mentally. I’m weak. I lack confidence in myself. I want so much, I crave it. But I can never reach it, because my dreams put me in places I know I won’t ever belong.”

“I would agree on some of that. You need more faith in your own choices. But I disagree about belonging. You have a bit of work to do, but to say you don’t belong is blatant lie you tell yourself because you doubt your own worth.”

“I’m tired,” Yuuri said. He turned around. 

“Please don’t lie to me,” Victor said. 

Yuuri paused. No one ever called him on it before, and it surprised him more than annoyed him. He glanced back. “What do you mean?”

“If you want to stop, you tell me. But you don’t have to lie to get what you want. I want your honesty, Yuuri, the way I want your tears and your weakness and your strength and your beauty. I won’t be satisfied until I have it.”

Yuuri didn’t have an answer to that. Stunned, he took a step back and paused. 

“Are you tired?” Victor asked. 

Yuuri sighed as he shook his head. “No.”

“Do you want to stop dancing for today?”

“... No,” Yuuri murmured. “I need time alone, though. To think.”

Victor smiled. “Then that is what you’ll get. Please let me know when you would like me to join you again.”

Maybe Yuuri was a masochist or a fool. But he watched Victor leave, and danced alone for an hour, and found himself in need of another set of eyes again. 

And when he stuck his head out of the room, there Victor was, waiting to be just that. 

* * *

When Victor announced he was going to go down to make dinner, Yuuri followed. He perched on the counter and watched as Victor assembled the parts and pieces of their meal, moving around with confidence and grace. 

“It’s surprising you know how to cook,” Yuuri muttered. 

Victor didn’t seem bothered by it. “I had a private chef for a while. I paid her for a few lessons and referred her to other clients. I like making food myself when I have time.”

Yuuri was struck with a sudden horrific thought. “Oh god, we aren’t eating _ people, _are we?”

Victor roared with laughter. “You think I’m some Hannibal Lecter figure? I’m not serving you some poor fool’s liver with a nice Chianti. Although I can’t guarantee the beef didn’t have a name before it died…” Victor said thoughtfully. Yuuri looked horrified. It only made Victor laugh harder. 

“It wasn’t a joke!” Yuuri protested. “Ah- whatever,” he groused. Their meal was plated and served. They took it to the couches they had first eaten at. Yuuri had a single glass of wine and he was disinclined to drink more than that. “Thank you,” Yuuri said after a long period of silence. 

“You’re very welcome.”

They ate for a while, the only sounds being the scraping of the silver on the plates, the sound of bites into the crisp greens of the accompanying salad. 

Victor spoke after a while, “Does it bother you to have anyone touch you? Or just me?”

“... No one has touched me but Bradley in… a really long time. Even when I had to do lifts for the pas de deux, it was just… brief moments where I’d lift my partner. And I was always in control of that, so I didn’t think about it at all.”

“But nothing casual? Nothing unconscious?” Victor asked. He was circling something, like a predator nearing its prey. 

Yuuri shook his head. “No, nothing like that. It’s not that I don’t want to be touched. I just…”

“So when I wash your hair?”

“It’s torture,” Yuuri said. “Like I’m crawling out of my skin. I want it to stop.”

Victor tapped his lips. He always did that when he was thinking, that little unconscious gesture around his face. It was always his chin or his mouth. Victor let out a soft hum. “Would you be interested in a form of exposure therapy?”

Yuuri narrowed his eyes. “Exposure therapy? Touching me a bunch until it doesn’t bother me anymore? I can’t say I like the idea.”

“It was just a thought,” Victor said with a shrug. “You’re mine whether I touch you or not, it’s all the same to me.”

“You still want to fuck me,” Yuuri said. 

Victor choked on his wine, but recovered quickly with a smile. “It would be nice! But I also find satisfaction in watching you dance. I have no expectations or delusions that you would want to fall into my arms, not with the recent revelation of your oh-so-charming ex.”

Yuuri frowned. “I don’t get you. That you're physically attracted to me, I can understand on some level. I know my ass isn’t half-bad, all things considered. But you would just… do what? Jerk off?”

“I have for this long,” Victor said cheerily. “However, if you ever change your mind, I’d be happy to spend some time getting a bit more… intimate. I’ve been told I’m a very thorough lover.” The smile became pure sin. 

Yuuri stood up. “Never going to happen,” Yuuri said quickly. He stormed out of the room. No way could Victor see just how warm Yuuri’s cheeks were getting at the thought. 

The thought of sex was just… repulsive. It was never enjoyable, not in the way it was supposed to be. Bradley only ever took what he wanted, and so too would Victor. Yuuri would be a fool to let him have what he wanted so easily. 

And yet a baser part of him stirred at the proposition, hungry after months of denial. On some level, Yuuri was only human. No matter how repulsive the idea, the carnality of it was so intrinsically tied to his being that he couldn’t fully separate thought from impulse. 

In the end, that was what sickened him the most. The thought that, no matter how much he hated Victor, hated the things Bradley had done to him, he didn’t hate the idea of sex. He just hated the amount of trust he had to put in others. 

“Yuuri,” Victor called after him. Yuuri paused in the doorway. “Touch doesn’t have to mean sex and pain. I’d be more than happy to show you that.”

He let out a slow breath. “I can do this part myself,” he said. He left the plate in the sink, feeling no small measure of relish in leaving work for Victor to do later. He went back upstairs, and he closed the door on himself. He went into the studio and closed that door, too, locking it behind him. 

He walked over to the corner where the chair was perched. He could do this by himself. He didn’t need help. He didn’t need Victor’s pity. It was natural and human and instinctive. 

He flopped in the chair, reaching into the leggings to take himself in hand. It was awkward at first. Unsexy. He hadn’t done this in… god, years at least. He gave himself a soft stroke. It felt good, but not enough of the way it was supposed to. 

He closed his eyes and took a breath. What was sexy? As a teenager, Yuuri had jerked off daily to his Victor Nikiforov posters. That didn’t seem like much of an option now. Bradley was never really sexy to begin with. He wasn’t terrible looking, but he also wasn’t uncommonly gifted in the looks department. And thinking of Bradley like that left coldness creeping down Yuuri’s spine. 

He thought of pleasure, burning hot inside him. He thought of the feeling of orgasm. His cock stayed pointedly soft in his palm, barely stiffening from the strokes he gave himself. Angrily, he stroked his cock more furiously, frantically. It stiffened a tiny bit, but there was little pleasure to be found. 

Tears pricked in the corners of his eyes. Come on, come on, was it so hard to enjoy this? What was he doing wrong? He let out an angry scream. 

Sex, sex was sexy right? He tried to remember the last time he had enjoyed sex. All he could remember were the times he’d said no, the times when Bradley had said ‘_ yes _ ’ and ‘ _ come on Yuuri, don’t be a prude’ _. The times when Yuuri had ignored him, and the times when Bradley had continued...

His hand came out of his pants and he flopped back in the chair, unsatisfied and furious with himself. He couldn’t stop shaking. This was ridiculous. He couldn’t help but feel like this was something he had lost, a battle he wouldn’t win. 

Victor was sitting on the bed when Yuuri stuck his head out of the studio. He glanced up from his book, offering Yuuri a smile. “Everything okay?”

“Everything is fine,” Yuuri said. “I want a bath.”

Victor blinked away surprise, recovering quickly. He smiled as he set the book aside, and then stood. It was hard to ignore- he was every bit as handsome as the visage that had adorned countless posters in Yuuri’s childhood bedroom, the same posters he wasn’t allowed to keep when he moved in with Bradley. 

Victor shed his shirt as the tub filled. Yuuri was quiet. He sank into hot water, not willing to speak. 

“Are you mad?” Victor asked. Yuuri didn’t answer. “I don’t know how to fix it-”

“Not everything needs to be fixed,” Yuuri murmured. “Not everything wants to be fixed. Sometimes… things just need to stay how they are, because fixing them… it’s not worth it. How much effort would it take to smooth out the creases of a piece of origami? Even then, it’s not the same.”

“I did some research,” Victor said. Yuuri could hear him filling his palm with a dollop of shampoo. He went tense, expecting a touch that never came. “And I found another story. Kintsugi. Repairing broken pottery to make it more beautiful than it was before.”

“That’s-” Yuuri stammered. “That’s beside the point. Some things aren’t worth the effort to fix.”

“The more we talk, Yuuri, the more I see what makes you so entrancing to me.”

Yuuri narrowed his eyes. “Really? And what exactly is that?”

“When I look at you, I see a person who has had their spirit stepped on, shattered, and silenced time and time again, everywhere he turns, and I see piecemeal attempts to cobble his life back together and continue functioning however possible, because he’s a stubborn little shit.”

Yuuri’s eyes burned. He looked away, unable to bear to listen. And yet Victor didn’t stop. 

“I see a survivor who has refused to lose his fire even when he faces things he fears. I see a proud man who does not accept a single ounce of the pity he doesn’t believe he has earned. And it makes me want to dive my fingers into that pretty little head of yours and see what it is that makes that fire burn. What makes you so stubborn. I want to see you break and bend and come back whole for me.”

“You’re… just…” Yuuri shook his head. The fire in him was flickering low. It was almost out, and he didn’t have the heart to argue. “I wish I could hate you. I want to. So, so bad. But I can’t. And everytime I try, you do something else that just surprises me.”

“You’re the one surprising me,” Victor confessed. “I never know where to step with you. It’s a dance I’ve never done before, and it’s delightful in ways I can’t begin to describe. Just when I think I figure you out, I see another facet of you that stokes a new fire in me. I relish any chance to see more, that’s all I wish.”

Yuuri could see something genuine in Victor’s eyes. He covered his face and groaned. Yuuri had exchanged one hell for another, it seemed, fallen hard and fast for another seductive mistake. 

“You don’t hate me,” Victor said. “But that isn’t ‘like’. That isn’t trust. So I’ll ask, may I touch you?”

Yuuri went tense, watching Victor for any sign he would act. Would it be that easy to convince Victor to leave? To give him this time alone? Yuuri turned his head. “Just my hair,” he said quietly. 

Victor sank his fingers into Yuuri’s wet hair, gently washing the strands and lathering it on Yuuri’s scalp. It was perfunctory and light, efficient in a way. Yuuri rinsed it off himself, and let Victor condition his hair with a gentle touch. He was trembling hard, his chest so tight he thought he couldn’t breathe. This was normal. It was always like this. 

But this time, Victor leaned down, his touch featherlight. “Relax, Yuuri, no one can hurt you. You asked for this.”

“I _ know _that,” Yuuri muttered. He clenched his eyes shut. His brain was screaming. His body was tense, and every muscle was fighting the impulse to flee. “I know you’re not going to do anything- I can’t just- I can’t-” 

Hands on his skin, his hair, his arms, his neck, the feeling of suffocation while being fucked- He screamed. “I can’t- I can’t- crane! Stop, stop, stop!”

Victor pulled his hands away. Yuuri was left shaking in the tub, silent, unable to bear it any longer. 

“You can live your life how you choose,” Victor murmured. “But is a life like this really living?”

“I want life,” Yuuri breathed. He couldn’t stop shaking. His skin was crawling, his sobs shaky as they petered out of him. “I hate this. I hate living like this, and I can’t do anything because every time you touch me, anyone touches me, I _ remember _ things that I don’t want to remember and I- I hate it,” he sobbed. “I want to be free. I want to be _ alive _.” 

He shook his head, clutching his shoulders in the water. 

“I want to be better than this, and I don’t know how. I hate that you’re the only person I’ve ever met who helps me and doesn’t let me push them away. Of all the people in the world, it had to be _ you _.”

“I’m not doing anything extraordinary, Yuuri,” Victor said. 

“But you are,” Yuuri said. “You meet me where I am, and no one has done that. Why is it just you?”

Victor took the question seriously, because he considered it for a very long moment before he spoke. “The world… it doesn’t like people like you and me. The ones who don’t fit into the same old pretty molds. I tried to wear my mold and do as I was told and in the end, it was either break out or let it destroy me. I could never grow if I stayed inside it. And the same is true for you.”

“Imperfect things have no place,” Yuuri murmured. 

Victor flinched. His smile was flat. “Oh Yuuri, if you only knew the number of times I’ve heard similar words. And it cuts every time. But they don’t want perfection. That’s the secret. Perfection is average. Those who stand out are the ones who refuse to play by other rules. To stand on the top of the world, you cannot be average. You cannot let what others think stop you.”

“The water is getting cold,” Yuuri muttered. He didn’t know what else to say. Victor’s intense gaze was burning through Yuuri, seeing inside him where no one else had ever dared to look. Victor stared it down, and it when blinked, he didn’t flinch. 

Later, when Yuuri was warm and dry and clean, he sat on the edge of Victor’s bed, watching Victor dress in a clean pair of pajama bottoms. “When I first came here, you didn’t wear pants to bed,” Yuuri said. 

“I didn’t think you wanted me sleeping naked beside you, to be frank.”

Yuuri took a breath to steady himself, looking away. Fucking Victor, always thinking of things Yuuri didn’t even consider, didn’t think about until weeks later. Yuuri spent so much time lost in his own head, of course. How could he ever overcome that?

“You… don’t have to wear them, if it’s more comfortable for you. I still don’t like you. But… I want control of my life. Um. Also… Do you… still want to fuck me?” 

“Oh, Yuuri, you say that like I’d ever stop wanting that.” He laughed a little. Shirtless, Victor advanced. The sharp lines of his hips peeked out under the waistband of the soft pants. He knelt on the bed above Yuuri. “I will treat you gently if that’s what you need.”

“Just do it,” Yuuri breathed. He thought of his soft cock the way his attempts all fell short. “I want to be stronger. I want to be better. I want to forget him. You said you’d help me. So… will you?”

He closed his eyes. There was a trembling silence before Victor’s lips brushed his, with just the slightest touch they glanced and came back for another. He let out a surprised sound. It sparked, and Yuuri fought a little shiver.

“I’m not glass, you know,” he breathed. He opened his eyes and saw Victor’s face so close to his, blue eyes dark and dilated with lust. His cock twitched a little. 

“I know you’re not, but I just want to enjoy it a bit,” Victor said. He was smiling sweetly. His hands came up to Yuuri’s hips. 

Panic immediately lurched in Yuuri’s throat, faster than he could bite it back. No-fuck- He bolted back, shaking his head. He was halfway across the bed before he even knew what he was doing. “Fuck,” he breathed. He was shaking. “I’m sorry, I’m wrong, I’m not strong enough.”

“But you will be,” Victor said, with just a lilt of a tease. “If you think you can do it.”

Yuuri jabbed his finger at Victor. “That right there is what I’m talking about. When I back down, you challenge me to do better. Ugh!” Yuuri cried out, yanking at his own hair. He flopped back on the bed. “How are you not mad at me?”

“What do I have to be mad over?” Victor asked, almost puppyish as he cocked his head. 

“I- well, I asked for sex and then backed off?” Yuuri said. 

Victor smiled. “You also told me when you wanted me to stop. I would be quite the hypocrite if I was upset. If you want to test me, that’s quite alright. I can’t say I haven’t earned it.”

“I’m not testing you,” Yuuri said. He shook his head. He wasn’t, not… consciously, at least. 

“Do you want to trust me, Yuuri?” Victor asked. 

“I don’t- well, I do, but I don’t know- ugh!” Yuuri grumbled. “This would be so much easier if you were an asshole, you know.”

“I am an asshole,” Victor said. 

“You know what I mean,” Yuuri scolded. He let out a long sigh. “If you were… like Bradley. Someone who took and took and never asked. It’s like I look at you and see a thousand different masks, and I never know what I’m dealing with. And out of all those masks, I always seem to find the one that treats me like I deserve all this stuff I never thought I deserved before. It’s disconcerting.”

“Then what do you want me to be to you?” Victor asked. “If not your killer, if not a mask, then what?”

“I don’t want you to be anything,” Yuuri said, and he found it was true. “I don’t want a bunch of meaningless faces and words and titles. What you think I deserve… that is already more than what I think I deserve, and I don’t think we can ever reach a consensus on that. So just… be Victor. Be what you want to be. Let me handle the rest until we try again.”

“You want to try again?” Victor asked, blinking. 

“I’m not going to leave this be. I know I can overcome my stupid brain, and I’m not going to let it win. So yes, at some point, I might ask again, if you want to.”

Victor laughed. It was a surprised sound, a little delighted. “I said it myself,” Victor assured him. “I will _ always _ want you, Yuuri.”

* * *

**June 01, 2019**

When May ended, Yuuri was surprised where time had gone. The two of them often danced together. Yuuri grew, slowly but surely. 

It was boring in the delays between when Victor left in the morning and when he arrived in the evening. He kept shorter hours now, turning more of his focus onto Yuuri, but other things claimed his attention. 

“You’re bored,” Victor assumed, and it was not a question but a statement of fact. 

“I’m bored everyday, it’s fine,” Yuuri said with a shrug. “I’m used to it. As long as you keep bringing me books, I’ll survive.”

“If there’s anything you would like…?” Victor offered. “Movies? Games?”

Yuuri’s eyes lit up. “I have a console at home, if Bradley hasn’t thrown it out already.”

“Why would he throw it out?” Victor asked. 

Yuuri scoffed. “He thought games were stupid and nerdy. He said I’d dance better if I didn’t play them so much. I didn’t even play it often, not since I met him.” 

“What games do you want?” 

“Um, whatever is there is fine. Um, if you get it, could you try and grab my handheld too?”

Victor beamed. “Consider it done.”

* * *

**June 03, 2019**

When Victor came home, Yuuri was already limbered up. He wasn’t expecting Victor to arrive with a pile of gift wrapped boxes. It took Victor multiple trips to lug all of them into the room. 

Yuuri watched, stunned, as the pile steadily grew.“What is all this?”

“Go ahead and open them!” Victor chirped. “I’m excited to see your reaction.” Like a giddy child, he sat down to watch Yuuri, pushing two in particular close to him. “Open these two first. The others can come later.”

Ignoring him, Yuuri opened one that was spilling out of one of the bags. He tore into the paper. It was a PlayStation game, brand new and unopened in its box. He glanced at Victor, shocked. “You’re joking. These aren’t all-”

He looked at the countless boxes. He tore into another small box and found a game for the Switch. His voice grew higher pitched. 

“Victor, I don’t even have one of these-” He saw the two boxes Victor had nudged toward him. “You’re joking, you didn’t really…” 

Victor just kept smiling. “Well the bad news is that, yes, the consoles were pawned off. But the good news is that these are brand new! I asked an associate at the store for advice on games, and they helped me find some they thought you might like. I got a variety, too, not just the popular ones…”

“Victor, this is too much!” Yuuri protested. He ripped the paper off a game console, frowning. 

“You said you wanted me to be myself! I went shopping, which I adore doing. And it was surprisingly fun to shop for someone else. It’s a mystery, what will Yuuri like? What games will he play most? I think we both got something out of this.”

“You are-” Yuuri began. “Ridiculous. Just ridiculous.” 

“You’re smiling,” Victor said. He looked giddy and overly pleased with himself. Yuuri tried to wipe the smile off his face with mixed success. “Let me know if there’s anything else you need, Yuuri.”

“You can’t throw money to make me like you,” Yuuri said. 

Victor laughed. “Yuuri, if I thought money was the ticket to your heart, you would not be the person I thought you were. And you would be much less beautiful. When you turn down my gifts and throw a fit like this, it makes it so much more satisfying to see you finally break down and use them.”

Yuuri looked away. “Fine, I won’t use it.” He crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Yuuuuri, please?” Victor asked. “There’s no point in buying them if I don’t think you’ll use them at some point.”

“No, it’s too much,” Yuuri said. “You should return them.” He opened another package and groaned. “Ughhhh and I really wanted to play this one… you are an asshole after all.”

“Does this mean you’ll play them?” Victor asked, looking smug. 

Yuuri cradled the console and game to his chest. “I make no promises.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri feels alone.

**June 05, 2018**

Victor was twitchy. 

Yuuri wasn’t sure why, but Victor wasn’t hiding it as well as he seemed to think he was. If Yuuri wasn’t watching him, occupying his attention, then Victor was wringing his hands, frowning at the walls, twitching his fingers. 

It was a bunch of small things. Yuuri almost didn’t notice, since Victor controlled them so well when Yuuri was watching. It worsened when Yuuri absorbed himself in books and papers and games. He could see it from the corner of his eye. 

Distractions helped Victor. When they danced, Yuuri could see the unconscious way the twitchiness faded. It was almost interesting, if it wasn’t so strange. 

Yuuri took a steadying breath. They’d spent the afternoon dancing together, bodies in close proximity. Yuuri felt warm, and not just because his muscles ached. 

For hours, Victor’s hands had fluttered scant inches away from Yuuri’s skin, never touching, never crossing that line. But they were close. So close, and it left goosebumps up his skin. 

Yuuri squirmed. Victor’s heated looks left no question what he saw in Yuuri when they moved. 

And yet the second that he’d allow Victor to touch him, Yuuri would clam up immediately. He thought that eventually, there might be a moment when he allowed Victor to touch him, some moment when his sense slipped away and his body succumbed to temptation. But things weren’t like that, no matter what Yuuri imagined. 

There would be no magic moment where everything clicked, when suddenly Yuuri could touch others and allow them to touch. Bradley had seen to that. 

Between Yuuri flinching away like he was being electrocuted and Victor’s twitching, they were a mess. Yuuri hopped onto the foot of the bed, loading up his game, trying to stop thinking. Victor sat at the head with a book in hand. 

Yuuri narrowed his eyes at Victor as he clasped one hand in the other. The faintest tremor wracked both. 

“Are you okay?” Yuuri asked, squinting. 

“I’m fine,” Victor said. He looked distracted, and at last, he let out a breath. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to tell you. I have a business trip coming up. It’ll last a week. Do you think you’ll be okay staying here?”

“You’re… leaving?” Yuuri said. He blinked, putting his game on pause and lowering it. 

“Just for a week, probably much less. I’ll make sure there’s plenty of food. I would bring you with me, but it’s halfway across the country and I have to bring several coworkers along with me. If you need anything, I have remote access to the locks and cameras in the house, and I can unlock anything you need.”

“O-oh,” Yuuri said. He wasn’t sure how to feel. A part of him knew he should rejoice at the opportunity to be alone. But a larger part of him was wondering what exactly that week of solitude would entail. He shook his head. “I’ll be fine. It’ll be nice to have a break,” Yuuri said. “When are you leaving?”

“In two days. It’s short notice, but an emergency came up in the LA office and requires my immediate attention. I tried to resolve it but there’s nothing I can do from here. I’ll make sure there’s plenty of meals stocked up for you and I have a few ideas on some other things I can try…” Victor mused. “Either way, I don’t have much of a choice in the matter. I’m sure you’ll be pleased to have a break.”

Yuuri hummed, still unsure. “Is that all that was bothering you?” Yuuri asked, still seeing the faint twitch in Victor’s fingers. Victor clasped his hands together. 

“That was everything! I should start packing soon. Let me know if there’s any food you want. If something comes up, there’s a silent alarm on the windows and doors which will alert me if they are forced open. And I’ll try to check on you frequently.”

Yuuri watched Victor stand abruptly, puttering around the room. At least it would be a peaceful few days. 

He told himself this was good. Being alone was a golden opportunity for Yuuri to clear his head. Something about Victor’s presence made it hard to think right, made his choices go crazy. It was a chance for him to escape without Victor’s presence threatening to ruin it. An entire week where Victor would be too far to act? It was a golden opportunity. 

And yet, a little voice in Yuuri’s head wondered, if Yuuri wanted to run so badly, why hadn’t he tried lately? 

Victor let him through his house multiple times, not always directly supervised. Yuuri could have bolted at any one of those chances. But he never did. Maybe finally being away from Victor would give him the wake up call he needed.

* * *

**June 07, 2019**

When Victor left, Yuuri said a single goodbye from the bedroom, watching Victor carry his two suitcases out the door. 

He waited until he could see Victor’s car roll down the driveway. When at last, a glimmering black car peeked through the trees, Yuuri knew the house was empty. It was a strange feeling. He watched through the window until Victor was out of sight, heart hammering. 

He was alone at last. Alone. Not for a few hours but for days on end! Sweet freedom! 

He hopped to the studio. He danced a short while, then picked up one of the games he’d started recently. Beneath the music coming from the TV, he could hear the ticking of a clock, and little else.

It was so quiet. 

Yuuri was used to the quiet of course. Victor worked most days of the week, and he was usually gone when Yuuri woke up, returning sometime in the early afternoon. Something about this silence felt different. Yuuri ignored it pointedly.

As the first day of solitude bled into the second, Yuuri was quickly feeling the quiet bearing down on him. He was alone. He could start thinking of how best to escape. Victor had cameras, silent alarms, and god knew what else. But Yuuri was patient and clever enough to deal with most of this, surely. 

Maybe if he asked Victor to unlock the bedroom door, allowing Yuuri downstairs to have his pick of the bookshelf, he could keep going. If Victor let him beyond the bedroom door, the odds were good that at least one window or door was not reinforced. Yuuri could run. Civilization had to be some way. 

Shaky plan in action, he casually set to work packing up a few things he would need. A change of clothes to get him back home, probably. He didn’t know how long it would take to get back. A few bottles of water. He could sneak a few of the more shelf stable meals in too. 

He grabbed the Switch. Bringing that too, probably. He froze with it in his hands. It seemed to burn to the touch. All of this stuff, Victor had bought for him, given him. 

It was Yuuri’s, but… how much money had it cost to get all of this? How much time and effort and money had been changed for this pile of stuff that Yuuri now thought of as _ his? _

And there, signing a song of doubt and discord in his brain, were the insidious thoughts of _ why _ and _ I’m not worth this_. 

It reared up in his head and he flinched to his feet, pacing like a caged animal. He was being ridiculous. He needed to just get away from here. Not back to Bradley, but somewhere- Somewhere he could think like the rational, sane person he was, somewhere deep down. Somewhere he could work through the stupid hesitance and fears buried in his mind.

He reached for the doorknob. Locked. Just like he expected, just like he knew it would be.

Slowly, he sank to his knees on the floor, clutching his head. He couldn’t stop shaking. 

* * *

**June 09, 2019**

The food was cold. Yuuri picked at it with one of the plastic forks he’d been left with. It wasn’t as satisfying as something hot, made fresh with him in mind, with him perched on the counter and watching Victor fix it. 

He rinsed the empty container in the bathroom sink to keep it from smelling. A little pile of similarly rinsed containers were piled up beside the tap, waiting for a trip through the dishwasher beyond the door. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been alone for this long. 

The chiptune background music of the games he played was a poor filler for the quiet surrounding him. After a while, he laid back, not even interested in his game anymore. 

He was _ bored_. 

He folded a few paper animals, but it did nothing for him. For a while, he stared at the ceiling, unwilling to think, somewhere between wakefulness and dozing off. 

His head was a mess. 

Victor’s absence did nothing to make it easier. He still smelled Victor on the pillows, felt his presence in the pictures looming over him. 

Every thought seemed to come back to Victor, Victor, like a pull he couldn’t ignore. 

There was a quiet crackle from his left, startling him. “What the...?” Yuuri muttered, sitting up and looking around. It crackled again before Victor’s voice broke through. “Hello, Yuuri! The crisis is almost resolved. Are you feeling alright? Feel free to speak aloud, I should be able to hear you.”

Yuuri looked around frantically, finding the speaker in the corner near one of the cameras. 

He looked away. His heart was racing, but he forced himself to sound relaxed. “I’m fine. Bored. A little hungry.” 

Victor was _ speaking to him- _

“I miss you,” Victor said. 

Yuuri clamped his jaw shut. “Don’t make things up,” he snapped. He bit back the flare of irritation with little success. 

Victor laughed. “But I’m not. I do miss you, quite a lot, actually. I can’t wait to see you again. Do you miss me?”

Yuuri‘s chest went tight. Maybe? No, yes, no. “Of course not.” Yuuri huffed suddenly. He stood, skulking back to the studio. At least there, there were no cameras there. 

* * *

**September 2018**

Yuuri laughed softly as he tried to pull away. “Let me go! Bradley, please. I’m going to be late.”

Bradley looked up with big puppy eyes. “I’ll miss you too much. Stay here, in bed.”

“I’ll be back before you know it,” Yuuri said. 

“Come straight back,” Bradley said. Yuuri left a kiss on Bradley’s nose, dressing quickly. He made it to the fitting with scant minutes to spare. 

It passed quickly, with Sara nearby. The costumer was a crass old woman with coppery-colored hair and a stern expression, but her work was solid and her designs were spot on. 

They finished an hour early, and Sara beckoned Yuuri to the nearby cafe. “I should go home…” Yuuri murmured. 

“We never hang out! Come on, just a few minutes! We can grab some lunch and head back.”

Yuuri hesitated in the doorway, then smiled. “Just a few minutes. I’ve been wanting to try the food here. The sandwiches look delicious.”

“They’re so good,” Sara said. They ordered and chatted happily. Time slipped away from them. Yuuri remembered what happened next. 

He gazed across the restaurant. Just an errant look, really, nothing catching his attention at first. Then he paused. He squinted toward the table near the back corner.

There, in the back, someone familiar was sitting. The face was distant and hard to make out, but scratched something so intimately in Yuuri’s mind. It was a couple, smiling and laughing over lunch. The woman, he didn’t recognize, but the man...

Yuuri felt his pulse pounding in his eardrums. “Bradley,” he whispered. 

He staggered to his feet. Bradley was smiling wide, laughing and telling a story. The woman leaned forward. One hand pushed her curls back from her face, twisting one strand around her finger and letting it bounce back. The other reached over the table, fingers trailing over the back of Bradley’s hand. 

Yuuri stopped, halfway across the restaurant, unable to breathe. 

“Bradley, you’re so funny,” the woman purred. She batted her eyes, clearly flirting, and Bradley was eating it up with the same smile he used to wear around 

Yuuri. Yuuri turned on his heel. 

They were just… just getting lunch. The way he and Sara were. And yet his heart ached. 

* * *

**June 11, 2019**

“I miss you,” Yuuri scoffed, rolling over in the bed. “Yeah right.”

He was going crazy by himself. He knew he was. His only tether to humanity was gone, and solitude did things to his mind. 

_ Victor left me, why did you leave me all alone- _

No, he was mad. He was being absolutely ridiculous, because even if Victor was helping him, even if Victor was crazy enough to spend money on Yuuri, he was lying when he said he missed Yuuri. Yuuri would still never be worth a fraction of the time and effort put in-

No! Yuuri was being even more ridiculous. He needed to escape. He needed to think logically, because in the end, no matter how Victor treated him, Victor was still a murderer-

Who hadn’t even killed in months. Who had taken Sara away. Yuuri clutched his head and let out a strangled sob. It was so easy to forget. It was scary, just how easy it was. Victor’s smile and Victor’s kindness and Yuuri could so easily to let the memory of the funeral slip from his mind.

How broken Michele was, as well as the rest of her whole family. The theater, and how it was never the same. The unshed tears Yuuri kept within himself. 

He was desperately confused. The Victor he knew and the Victor he thought he knew were the same person, but the two images of them didn’t line up, and it left Yuuri ruined. 

The doorbell rang. 

Yuuri jolted upright, his face streaked in tears. It had startled him enough to break him from the swirling pit of his mind, and for that, he was already grateful. 

“What was that?” he whispered. The door unlocked with an audible, pneumatic click. Yuuri wiped his face, creeping out the door with a cautious glance. 

The speakers came to life. Victor’s voice said brightly, “Check the entry room, my beautiful Yuuri!” Confused, Yuuri walked down the steps, finding the front door easily. There was a paper bag sitting on the entry table. He smelled food, and his stomach rumbled audibly. 

“Delivery?” he asked. 

“I’m so happy that worked,” Victor said. “I had concerns, but they were happily unfounded. Apparently leaving a generous tip in advance answers most questions. Eat up, Yuuri!”

Yuuri warily stared at the bag. His stomach growled. He had missed lunch while lost in his mind, and didn’t even realize how late it had gotten. He snatched the bag up and slipped into the studio, feeling suspiciously like he had been watched. 

It should bother him. It shouldn’t make him happy to know Victor was checking on him, was thinking about him and his well-being. 

Most of all, he hated how happy he felt, and how he thrived on all the little things Victor did for him. Bradley never would have considered something so small as this, let alone do it in the thoughtless way Victor seemed to do. It was like it popped into his head and he just did it.

No second thoughts. Perhaps a more selfish motive on some level, but at the same time paying attention to Yuuri’s reactions. 

He didn’t want to admit it. _ He missed Victor_. 

He yanked his hair and let out a ragged scream. _ Stupid stupid stupid, he was so stupid to think like this_. He slammed the door to the studio and furiously ate his food, desperate to push thoughts like that out of his head. 

He needed to break himself of this, and fast. He needed to be sane. This was not going to be Yuuri falling from one hell to another, he absolutely refused. He finished his meal, and he allowed it time to digest while he silently stewed. 

He forced himself to wait as long as he could, but his body was itching to move, to work through the wilding thoughts in his mind. He danced until he couldn’t breathe, until he couldn’t think or move. 

Every movement sang with his feelings, and they twisted together with every turning step, every leap just another conclusion he jumped to. 

His body dropped to the floor like a puppet with his strings cut. He gasped for air, and the maddening thoughts came flooding back, until he could no longer pretend. He had already given too much of his heart away. He could never take it back. 

Victor made him feel things Yuuri told himself he’d felt with Bradley. Made him feel safe, like he didn’t need to fear the words and the actions Victor committed. He tried to remember the first moments of fear, the times when he’d been scared for his life, but now his memories were full of Victor’s attentions, months of them piled on each other. 

He laid on the floor, stunned by the weight of the revelation. 

It was late. So, so late. He picked himself up off the floor and dragged himself to the shower. His eyes lingered on the tub. It left shivers up his spine, of fear, but also curiosity. Victor didn’t take more than he was given. He never professed anger at Yuuri for hesitating, only reassurances that Yuuri didn’t deserve. 

He shook his head and quickly rinsed the sweat from his body. He laid in bed. Even now, it still carried a faint hint of Victor on it, on the pillows and the blankets. “... Victor?” Yuuri said, his voice scratchy from disuse. “Victor, are you there?”

There was no response, and Yuuri soon fell asleep. 

When morning came, Yuuri called out again. “Victor? Are you there?” More conspicuous silence. “I want to talk. Please say something?”

He waited a while, but when no reply was forthcoming, Yuuri started to get annoyed. “Check often, right,” Yuuri muttered to himself. The one time he wanted to talk and Victor was gone. 

_ Silent alarms_. If Yuuri triggered one, Victor would have to look. He looked wildly around the room. He’d tried forcing the door before with little success. He turned on the windows, studying their construction and trying to figure out if this was even possible. 

Smashing it didn’t work last time. Yuuri wasn’t going to waste energy on things he knew wouldn’t work. He ripped at the sash and yanked at the bottom, lifting, pulling, yanking it every which way. The locks at the top didn’t budge. 

_ Silent alarm my ass_, Yuuri thought, looking around. He threw himself at the window, pulling frantically at it. “Come on, come on! Damn it. Victor!” he yelled. He spun around, searching for the pinhole cameras. “Victor, come on, it’s not funny anymore! Victor! If you’re just messing with me- Please…”

There was no answer. 

He sat on the edge of the bed. Maybe Victor was on the flight home? It was grasping at straws, but the timing wasn’t impossible. Maybe Yuuri was away when Victor boarded. Maybe- 

He shook his head, clutching at his temples. “Victor, please. Are you there? Can we talk? Victor, please Victor-” 

The longer he went without a response, the more infrequent his shouts became. 

He _ missed _ Victor. It hurt, how bad he missed Victor, how ignored he felt. And Victor, he was probably just busy. But he’d said Yuuri was important to him, and he didn’t answer. Just a lie to make him feel better, he supposed. And yet it hurt, it _ hurt. _

He threw a pillow and flopped back, staring at the ceiling. He couldn't stop the slight hitch in his breath. The only thing worse than Victor ignoring him was being upset about it.

It was late when he heard the stereo speaker crackle to life. “Yuuri!”

“Victor!” Yuuri gasped, falling out of bed and wiping his tears away. He knelt in front of the speaker. “I’ve been trying to talk to you for a day and a half, where were you?”

It was quiet for a long moment. When Victor spoke, it was curiously flat. “I had a lot of business suddenly. Something came up, but it’s done now. I miss you, Yuuri. I want you to know that.” Life crept back into his voice as he said this. “I want you to know that I miss you and your smile and your beautiful tears.”

Yuuri blinked at the speaker, confused. He shook his head. It didn’t matter. “When will you be back, then?” he asked. He hated how small his voice sounded. He hated the way his hands trembled. 

He could almost hear Victor’s smile. “Is my little dancer lonely in his tower?”

Yuuri almost didn’t answer. He laid back on the bed, nodding to himself. He couldn’t lie anymore. Not to himself. “Yes. Please come back. I miss you.” Victor made a strange sound, and Yuuri sat up, alarmed. “What was that?”

“Don’t worry,” Victor gasped. “That’s just the sound of my heart breaking from missing you so much. My dearest Yuuri, please just wait one more day for me. We take off in the morning tomorrow. I have one more thing to do before I leave and we’ll be off.”

“Good,” Yuuri murmured. 

“Is there anything you want before I leave?”

Yuuri shook his head and made a sound of dissent. “Just come back,” he said in a small voice. “Come back and stay.”

* * *

**June 12, 2019**

It was late afternoon when Victor announced he was driving back from the airport. “I’ll be home in an hour,” he said. “Is there anything you want me to get on the way?” 

“Maybe some dinner?” Yuuri asked. 

Victor chuckled. “Consider it done. See you soon, my Yuuri.”

_ My Yuuri. _Why did it feel so good to hear that? Why did it feel like some kind of confirmation that Victor cared? With Bradley, pet names were so impersonal. It was impossible not to compare. 

He rolled over in the bed, feeling lazy. He grabbed the television remote and changed the channel, passing by a program about dragonflies and a crime procedural. He landed on the news. 

The outside world. It had been months since Yuuri had last done anything considered ‘normal’. And yet, time didn’t stop without him. The same weather reports played out, the same news stories. He watched for a while. 

“_And in breaking news, we are getting word from our sister station in Los Angeles that the recent murder of a locally famous dancer has been confirmed to be the work of internationally infamous serial murderer, The Arabesque Killer.” _

Yuuri sat up. The other stories had passed, scarcely catching his attention, but this one seized him completely. He watched in horror as the newscaster read from her teleprompter. 

_ “The case reached international fame last year with the death of a dancer in Spain. The cooling off period over the last few months had led officials to cautiously hope that the killer had stopped, but this most recent incident seems to prove otherwise. Police have blocked off the area, but it is confirmed that the victim, aged 23-” _

Yuuri turned off the television. 

The sudden silence weighed around him, the atmosphere bearing down. He couldn’t take a single breath. Behind him the clock ticked, one second after another, louder and louder until it was deafening. Blood roared in his ears and beat his brain like a drum. _ Badum. Badum. Badum. _

_ “Victor,” _Yuuri breathed. 

* * *

Victor whistled when he opened the door. Yuuri never moved from his spot on the bed, staring unseeingly at a span of wall. 

Yuuri didn’t even blink. 

“No greeting? I thought you missed me!” Victor said, beaming. He loosened his tie and laid it over the dresser beside a bag of food. “Oh Yuuri, my darling, the trip was just horrible, I couldn’t bear to be away from you for so long-”

“What did you do?” Yuuri breathed. 

Victor paused. “Hmm?”

Yuuri’s voice turned icy. “I said, what the _ fuck _ did you do.” He turned the TV back on to the news, where they were covering the ongoing developments on the investigation. The _ murder _ investigation. “I’m not stupid, Victor, did you think I would never find out?”

Victor went very still. “You’re angry,” he said, voice flat. 

“Angry? Angry doesn’t begin to cover it. How could you, Victor? You killed someone!”

“I’ve killed lots of people and you know it,” Victor said. “You’ve known since the moment I brought you here. What makes this one any different?”

“It’s different because- Victor, you know!” Yuuri shouted. His hands balled into fists. “How could you?”

“I don’t know. How is it different? You didn’t even know this man. How is this more upsetting to you than your friend, Sara?”

Yuuri sucked in a breath, recoiling. The name was a slap in the face. “Don’t say her name.”

“I can say the name if I like, Yuuri, though I won’t because it’s clear I’ve already hit you right where it hurts.”

“Shut up!” Yuuri screamed. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes and he furiously attempted to wipe them away. He wasn’t going to give Victor that satisfaction. “Why did you kill that man? Why couldn’t you leave well enough alone?”

“I have a pattern,” Victor said. 

“You broke that pattern when you abducted me,” Yuuri snapped. “Don’t you dare talk about patterns like it excuses-”

“Oh,” Victor said. 

Yuuri glowered. “Oh? What does that mean?”

“I finally understand. But I don’t know if you do. Tell me, Yuuri, why is it that you’re upset?”

“You killed someone!” Yuuri shouted. He was shaking. Damn Victor, damn that little smile spreading smugly over his face. 

“Oh Yuuri, my sweet. You and I both know that is not why you’re angry with me right now. Try again.”

Yuuri seethed. “It’s the truth. I know myself well enough to know- I mean, killing someone for no reason-”

“I’ll give you some time to think, my beautiful Yuuri,” Victor said, looking painfully smug. “Tell me why you’re mad and I’ll happily apologize.”

“Why then?” Yuuri snapped. “Why do you think I'm mad? Tell me, goddamnit.”

Victor was gripping the footboard of the bed so tightly that his hands trembled. His smile was pure, wide, and completely fake. “I’ll let you figure that out yourself.” Victor turned on his heel and left. 

Yuuri let out a scream. He raked his hair back, clutched at it, yanked and pulled so the pain lit up along his scalp. 

There was no reason to be mad, other than the obvious. It wasn’t as though Yuuri was upset it had happened while Victor was away… probably while he had been ignoring Yuuri…

It was like shameless retaliation. Yuuri ignores Victor, hides in the studio where there were no cameras, and Victor turns to some nobody in a city of hopefuls. It was-

_ Jealousy_, an insidious little voice whispered. 

Yuuri screamed louder, throwing his face in a pillow. Jealous that some nobody died instead of him? Yuuri would never ever be _ jealous- _

He seethed quietly, staring at the door. He wasn’t jealous, and he didn’t want Victor’s apologies. He stood, swiping tears from his cheeks. “Victor, get back in here!” he called. “Victor!”

The door opened. “Yes, Yuuri?”

“I want to dance.”

* * *

Yuuri was sweating hard, driving all the pent up fury into his movements. Victor had stepped back after only a few moments. Even he could see the intensity in Yuuri’s dancing.

Yuuri took some measure of satisfaction in the look on Victor’s face, the delicate twist of Victor’s frown with every answer. 

“What was his name?” Yuuri asked. 

Victor blinked. “Ryan Dawes. A complete nobody before his murder. He had a small measure of renown in his troupe, but very little beyond that.” He rolled his shirtsleeves up to his elbows with casual little flicks of his wrist. His arms were lean but rippled with obvious muscles.

Yuuri spun away, dissatisfied. “Was he any good?”

“He showed some promise. He was a year or two younger than you, I think.”

“More promise than me?” Yuuri asked. 

“Not even close. So many questions, my Yuuri. Have you figured out why you’re so upset?”

“Not yet,” Yuuri said. He bit his lip. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple, and he wiped it away, pushing his hair back from his face. “Was he more attractive than me?”

Victor slowly grinned. Yuuri could feel his blood run cold just looking at it. “Well, he had a decent face. And his ass was nice,” Victor said. 

Yuuri felt a flash of anger. “Did you fuck him?”

“I did not.” Victor’s prim smile widened. 

“Did you want to?”

“Did you want me to?” Victor purred. He paced the room, watching Yuuri cycle through the steps. Yuuri stumbled. “What if I did? Would that upset you if I took him to bed before killing him?”

“No,” Yuuri said. That cold, petty smile just kept growing. “Absolutely not. You can do whatever you like.”

“Do you want me to touch you like that?” Victor said. His eyes were burning with radiant intensity. 

"Let's just dance," Yuuri huffed. He took a leap into the air, and the second he took off, he knew it was wrong. His body twisted wrong, his landing was a mess, and his arms were all over the place. He grimaced. He was wound too tight-

"Ryan's leaps were more graceful," Victor said.

Yuuri snapped.

"Fuck you! You asshole, monster, bastard!" Yuuri screamed. 

"Let it all out, beautiful Yuuri," Victor moaned.

"I thought you were different, I thought you were better, I thought I could TRUST YOU. If I wanted this, I'd go back to Bradley. At least he pretended to-"

Yuuri's back struck the wall. Pain exploded behind his eyes. Starbursts erupted, dazed, wild, the world spinning on its axis. Victor's eyes burned like twin points of demon fire. “Don’t you dare forget, you’re _ mine, _” Victor said, voice dangerous and low. 

Yuuri roared. Everything in his body seemed to explode. He pushed, knocking Victor off balance and sending them plummeting to the floor. His hands became claws, scratching out as Victor's bruising grip closed around him. They writhed on the floor. 

Victor snarled, teeth bared, and slammed Yuuri into the floor so hard he saw black. Yuuri wheezed, sucking down air. He gasped and screamed, rolling them over again. He raked his fingers over whatever he could reach, balling his hands into fists to punch and kick and strike.

Victor crushed his wrists and Yuuri's back hit the mirror again. Victor snarled like a beast, teeth bared. Hands closed around Yuuri’s throat.

The world blurred. Cold brushed his fingers, scrabbling over the floor, over their legs, finding a pocket. There was a click a million miles away. Then warmth bathed his hand, and suddenly Yuuri could see.

He straddled Victor's lap, back to the mirror and held there by Victor's hands. Victor was frozen in shock, blue eyes wide. They held a disconcerting innocence that made him look smaller than Yuuri had ever seen him. 

Yuuri went limp against the wall. He took long, labored breaths, just looking, just watching the shock play out over Victor’s face. That was when Yuuri saw it. 

A glittering knife protruded from Victor's abdomen. Gouts of brilliantly bright red blood spread down Victor's shirt and trousers, pulsing with Victor’s rapid heartbeat. 

"You're touching me," Victor breathed.

Yuuri looked down, seeing his legs astride Victor's, his body flush against another's, his hands trembling as they fell away from Victor and to the floor. His skin was damp with slick, red blood.

"I- I didn't mean-" Yuuri whispered. 

Victor's lips consumed him. Yuuri muffled the weak sound in his chest. Victor was hot against his skin. Yuuri's mind screamed, chaos, overwhelmed, a madness that stole all sense. He couldn't tell up from down, wrong from right. His brain shut off.

Yuuri let out a shaky sob as he was drawn into a deeper kiss. He could taste his tears on Victor's lips. Victor's cock was hard beneath them in their compromising position. Yuuri was perched haphazardly on Victor's lap, their arousals rutting frantically against one another's. Victor moaned into Yuuri's mouth, a sound Yuuri echoed back to him. This was madness- he needed to-

Victor's hands gripped Yuuri's hips, thrusting up to grind hard against Yuuri, and the world was hazy. He felt punch drunk.

“So sexy,” Victor panted. “Fuck, beautiful.” His eyes fluttered and Yuuri couldn’t help but keen under the praise. “My beautiful, beautiful Yuuri.”

The words sank into Yuuri’s skin, wrapped him up like chains around his heart. Tighter and tighter, it twisted until the swirling feeling reached a heady peak. 

Victor worshipped with kisses and touches alike, frantic until Yuuri was holding tight to the hem of the bloodstained t-shirt. Victor moved them until their bodies aligned, their cocks in his right hand.

With trousers sloppily yanked to the side, Victor jerked them off, gathering precum from the head and sliding it down their lengths. Yuuri gasped. He could see only stars and blackness, couldn’t think or breathe except to kiss up Victor’s neck. His hands settled on Victor’s hips, whining as Victor brought him closer and closer to the release he had sought for weeks. 

His thumb brushed the knife in Victor’s body, the cold steel sunk into the skin, the welling of bright crimson down the length of Victor’s body and over the floor. His breath hitched.

Yuuri spilled, letting out a breathless cry as he released into Victor’s hand, milked through it with Victor’s touch, and Victor followed soon after. 

They were breathing hard. Their release stained the fronts of their shirts, fat globules of white beading up over red-stained fabric. 

Yuuri sobbed. 

“Hate me,” Victor whispered. “God, you’re so beautiful when you’re angry, Yuuri, so beautiful.”

“You touched my neck,” Yuuri hissed. He could feel his pulse throbbing where fingers had dug in. His voice was hoarse. “You swore you wouldn’t, you bastard-” 

“I’m sorry,” Victor whispered. “I made a mistake.” He sounded surprisingly contrite. 

Yuuri didn’t buy it. He shoved the knife’s blade a little deeper into Victor’s stomach, watching Victor wince. 

“How can you expect me to believe you’re sorry? How do I know you’ll never, ever, _ ever _touch me again like that? Bradley made promises he could never keep. You’re exactly the same.” Yuuri narrowed his eyes, furiously wiping away his tears. Victor was silent for a long moment. 

The shimmering in his eyes didn’t appear to be from the pain of the knife, because Victor took a shaky breath, his gaze distant. Victor was trembling

“Never again. I won’t be like him. I won’t.” His voice cracked. Yuuri had an odd feeling he wasn’t talking about Bradley.

Victor slowly moved to stand, clutching his side where the knife still protruded. Yuuri shuffled off Victor’s lap. He tucked his cock back into his leggings, and Victor did the same. 

“Come with me, then,” Victor said. Yuuri almost said something, a fuck you of sorts, but Victor didn’t wait long enough for Yuuri to get it out. 

Still bleeding, Victor led him out the door. Round drops of blood spattered the floor. It soaked down Victor’s trousers, leaving bloody footprints on his left side. 

Yuuri was unsteady as he followed. His whole body was trembling, from rage, from the force of his release. His eyes were narrow as they went down one flight of stairs and then another. They stopped outside a doorway at the bottom of one last flight of stairs. 

“The dungeon?” Yuuri asked. 

Victor smiled. “Exactly.” He opened the door. Beneath the house was a long corridor, lit by steady, daylight-bright bulbs. Victor limped down the hall to the third door along the wall. He opened it. 

Yuuri slowly stepped inside, eyes narrow, and froze in the doorway. He was in a shooting range, the walls dimpled with egg-carton shaped foam structures playing the role of soundproofing. 

A small array of guns decorated the walls, hung up and displayed on fixtures holding them securely. “Victor? What is this?” Yuuri said, alarmed. Victor pulled one off from the walls, a slim pistol, grabbing a pair of ear plugs and loading the gun with a few deft flicks of his fingers. 

“Close the door, if you would, and grab a pair of ear plugs.”

Yuuri could see he had a choice between a pair of knead-eraser-looking plugs to fit inside his ears or a large pair of noise-canceling headphones. He slipped the headphones over his ears, shutting the door. He held his head high, ready for the bullet to pierce his body and end it all. Punishment for stabbing Victor. 

But Victor didn’t shoot him. He turned to the range, where a few paper targets were hung. 

Even with the sound suppressed, Yuuri could hear the bright, almost deafening cracking sound, every _ PAFF PAFF PAFF _exploding in his head and reverberating painfully. Yuuri flinched with every shot. The bullets tore small holes in the paper target, neon-bright against the black coating. It was eerily silent when the gun clicked, empty of its charges. 

Victor reloaded, and then stepped up to Yuuri, the gun pointed away as he pressed it into Yuuri’s palm. He pulled back the headphones. 

“If I ever touch you like that again, you put a bullet between my eyes,” Victor said. His eyes burned bright. He stepped around Yuuri, showing him how to hold it. 

“The knife...” Yuuri murmured. He couldn’t look away from the gleaming rainbow tinting projecting from Victor’s lower abdomen. 

“Leave it there. It’s not shoving the knife in that kills people, it’s pulling it out again,” Victor said. “I’ll worry about it in a moment. Point and shoot for me, Yuuri. Turn the safety off and fire at the target.” He stepped away. 

The gun was heavier than it looked, dark metal gleaming in the lights of the brightly lit range. Yuuri’s hand trembled. 

They weren’t illegal to own in America, and it was quite possible that Victor had permits and whatever else was needed for all of these. But it still made a little voice in Yuuri’s head scream in discomfort, just touching it. His hands shook violently. He looked at Victor’s smile and the rage flew back. He pointed the gun to the target and pulled the trigger. It clicked dully. 

“You have to turn off the safety, lovely Yuuri,” Victor purred, laughing a little. Yuuri fumbled with the weapon, clicking the little switch on the butt. “Point at the target,” Victor said, as though the words themselves seemed orgasmic, “and _ fire_.”

Yuuri closed his eyes tight, pointing down the range and pulling the trigger. _ PAFF._ It bucked in his hands, and Yuuri cried out, not expecting so much kick from the tiny gun. Victor laughed, sounding blissfully over the moon. 

“Beautiful! Beautiful Yuuri. But may I touch you to adjust your stance?”

Yuuri clutched the gun a little tighter. _ Put a bullet between my eyes. _He took a slow breath and looked away, his body shaking harder than before. “Yes.” 

“Point the gun at the target. Don’t close your eyes. Only ever point a gun at what you don’t mind being destroyed. Even with the safety engaged, you don’t point it at people you don’t want to see seriously hurt.”

Yuuri swallowed the gun safety information like a bitter pill. He leveled the gun at the target again, already shying away from the kick. 

“You have to adjust your stance,” Victor murmured. “A stronger base so you’re not as thrown off by the recoil. Like this.”

His hands fluttered, feathersoft over Yuuri’s skin. Yuuri felt a shudder rip through him, goosebumps spreading over his skin with every touch. 

“You aren’t afraid I’m going to kill you?” Yuuri breathed. Victor nudged Yuuri’s legs a tiny bit more apart. 

Victor bit his lip. His eyes were _ sparkling _ in the lights, his whole expression electric and achingly beautiful. “If it’s you, my Yuuri, I don’t know if I would mind. I think I’d like you to be the one to kill me if it came down to it.”

Yuuri looked away. He couldn’t silence the throbbing of his pulse in his ears, and, strangely, between his legs. 

He pulled the headphones back on and took aim at the paper target to the left of Victor’s destroyed one. His first shot had missed entirely. He gritted his teeth. He wouldn’t miss again.

He took aim, and Victor’s touch brushed over his shoulders, low enough to bypass Yuuri’s neck entirely. Victor made Yuuri stand up a little straighter, cock his shoulders differently. Victor stepped up behind him, chest warm on Yuuri’s back. Yuuri shivered.

Victor’s arms came around him, adjusting his position until Yuuri’s arm position and grip on the gun satisfied him. His breath was hot over Yuuri’s neck. Yuuri muffled a little whine, biting his lip so hard it bled. 

Victor’s hands settled on Yuuri’s hips, turning them slightly. They stayed. Yuuri could almost hear Victor’s words. _ That’s it. Fire_. 

Yuuri pulled the trigger. The kick rocked him, but he was prepared for it this time. A moan slipped from his chest. The paper target now sported a neon puncture, not in the center, but at least on the edge of the target. 

_ Again! _

Victor shouted loud enough to be heard faintly through the headphones, and Yuuri pulled the trigger again. The kick rocked his body into Victor’s. Instead of shying away, he used it as a brace. Victor’s chest pressed against his spine, unmoving as Yuuri emptied the clip. More hits than misses. Victor’s lips found Yuuri’s temple. 

Victor’s cock was rock hard, digging into Yuuri’s back. He was still _ bleeding, _ bleeding all over the floor, over Yuuri, completely heedless of what _ Yuuri had done. _The guilt was disgusting, why did he feel so guilty-

Victor’s whole expression was bright, electric, _ glowing _as he gave Yuuri another clip to slot into the pistol. He ground his erection against Yuuri’s spine. Instead of disgusted, Yuuri felt alive. 

He closed his eyes and took aim, opening at the last second. _ PAFF PAFF PAFF PAFF- _

Distantly Yuuri heard the click of an empty clip, but he was struck dumb. The paper target had a hole in the middle, a scant millimeter to the left of the bullseye. Victor’s hands clenched around his hips. The bulge of his erection slotted between Yuuri’s asscheeks, nudging, blood pulsing. The headphones fell away. 

Yuuri tasted the copper of his bloody lip. He groaned. 

He didn’t know how they ended up on the floor. He didn’t know how they were kissing, the gun forgotten on the floor but still within reach. He didn’t know how he was straddling Victor’s lap, his whole body _ aching _ for a touch, for Victor on his knees for Yuuri, for Victor’s worshipful stare as he touched and touched and touched, every little part of Yuuri that had been so untouched for so long. 

Yuuri shivered, cried out. Victor’s blood was hot on his skin, his touch like fire as he rolled Yuuri’s shirt up. “Can I? Can I?” Victor panted. 

Yuuri threw back his head. “Yes!”

Victor kissed every inch of skin he could reach, and Yuuri clung to him, arms around his neck. Yuuri was insensate. There was only heat and touch and fire. Victor’s hands crept down Yuuri’s leggings, pulling Yuuri closer, closer, and Yuuri ached for more. 

Victor reached behind him for something on the table and the touch grew warmer, slicker. 

Some kind of lube slicked his hands as he rubbed against Yuuri’s entrance. _ Stopstopstop _ Yuuri wanted to say but he couldn’t, couldn’t find the words inside himself to tell Victor let go of him. He didn’t want to let go. He didn’t want to stop. Yuuri pushed Victor to the floor. 

There was a sound of Victor’s startled breath huffing out. Yuuri gasped weakly. His whole body was twitching, aching, empty, like a yawning cavern that dreamed of being filled so full with everything Yuuri missed. Yuuri fumbled with the bottle Victor had pulled from the table.

Lube. He had lube down here. Yuuri’s brain couldn’t process this, barely took in the detail before he was reaching around himself, sinking a finger into his body with a blunt push. The world seemed to burst bright, painfully blinding around him. 

“Nghhhh,” Yuuri moaned. He spread his legs wider apart, taking that one finger deeper within himself. The stretch burned so good, ached in a way it hadn’t in so long. 

“So beautiful, gorgeous, Yuuri, Yuuri,” Victor breathed. Every praise lavished upon Yuuri felt fake, like a lie, but Victor lied so sweetly, and Yuuri wanted to believe. “My Yuuri,” Victor gasped.

Yuuri shook his head and forced another finger in, keening at the stretch. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes. He was crying, he was overwhelmed. Victor reached to touch again and Yuuri pushed his hands to the floor. 

“I need,” Yuuri gasped. “Please, please-”

A third finger, and it ached so sweetly as Yuuri opened himself up. He took it all in, and Victor’s praise ran like rivers through his body. 

“So beautiful, you take it so well, gorgeous, my Yuuri, my Yuuri… The things you do to me…”

Yuuri bit his bloody lip, tasted the blood filling his mouth. He pawed at the barely-done-up trousers Victor wore, the tight cling of black underwear bulging with Victor’s hard on, until Victor’s cock was exposed to the air. 

Yuuri didn’t think, didn’t even take a breath. He sank down on it with a scream. His broken sobs fell like rain over Victor’s bloody chest, teardrops pattering over bloodstained shirt and trousers. Yuuri lifted his body, and the yawning emptiness screamed within him. He sank back down and filled it with Victor’s thick cock, silencing the piece of his mind that protested. 

“Fuck, fuck, aaaah,” Yuuri cried out. He settled deeper, until he found the point within himself that made all the voices in his head fall quiet. It was heaven and hell in one. He rode Victor frantically, rising up and letting the flared head grind against his prostate until there was nothing left in his mind but pleasure exploding in starbursts. The world fell away and the voices couldn’t scream and all that was left was the touch of hands over his skin, the useless flutter and worship over his body. 

Yuuri sobbed as Victor’s cock twitched, erupting inside him and pumping him full of seed. It started to soften, but Yuuri didn’t pull off. He ground his hips flush, let the softening cock fill him full, and stroked himself until his body jerked with an orgasm so sweet. 

His eyes rolled back in his skull, his vision dark. “Victor, Victor, Victor…” he sobbed. It went dark, and it came back so slowly. Reality broke in pieces, not all at once. 

He could see light. His body was sore. He didn’t want to move, almost couldn’t. His legs were splayed open and he didn’t think he could bear to close them. Victor’s release trickled slowly out of him. He was dazed. 

Across the room, Victor was shirtless, slowly wrapping a bandage around himself. The bloodstained knife sat on the nearby table. The gun was on the floor within Yuuri’s reach, loaded with the safety on. 

Yuuri looked down at himself. He was dripping blood and cum, his fingers crusted with red and palms stained. Victor smiled at him, pausing the slow binding of his wound. 

“My lovely, lovely Yuuri. You might just be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooh man. That happened.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor is learning, but he’s a slow fucking learner sometimes.

**June 13, 2019**

Yuuri stirred slowly. He was going to throw up. 

The room was dark, and Yuuri was damp and clean. No more blood, no more cum, just soft pajamas and warm blankets. His body ached. He could still feel where Victor had fucked him, crawling under his skin like a parasite. 

He stumbled to his feet and retched into the toilet, barely making it in time. 

Above him, the light clicked on. Victor stood in the doorway. He sleepily pushed his hair back from his face, blinking owlishly into the bathroom. “Yuuri?” he murmured. 

Yuuri wiped his face clean, trembling violently. “Don’t touch me,” he whispered. 

Victor sighed. Yuuri flushed the toilet and stood, shaky on his legs. Victor stepped aside without a word, letting Yuuri return to the bed. The weapons were resting on the bedside table where Yuuri could easily reach them. 

He remembered last night in a violent starburst of memory. Gun in hand, knife in Victor’s body, and Yuuri, out of all the choices he could have made, had fucked Victor instead. How much of a fool was he? 

“Yuuri,” Victor murmured. “Is there something I can do?”

“Don’t you dare kill anyone else,” Yuuri said quietly. “Don’t touch anyone. That’s what you can do.” Yuuri sat on the bed, and he watched Victor sit beside him. Yuuri wrapped his arms around himself. “Why did you have lube downstairs?”

Victor let out a startled laugh. “That’s what you want to know?” Yuuri glared. “I don’t get off on guns, if you were wondering. But there is something appealing about the privacy of a sound-proofed room.”

“You go down there because I’m up here,” Yuuri assumed. Victor shrugged, neither confirming nor denying. Yuuri looked away. “You got what you wanted anyway, right?”

“My intention was never to fuck you in a moment of lust-blown passion. That was just a nice bonus. The gun is yours. Keep it with your knife. It might be useful to you. If you want to go back down to the range and practice shooting, just let me know.”

“I’m not using it,” Yuuri said. He tucked the clean knife back into his pocket. The gun, he left where it was. “I’ll keep the knife. Put the gun back.”

“Very inelegant, isn’t it?” Victor said with a smirk. 

Yuuri choked. “N-no, that’s not- It’s too… destructive. There’s a reason guns are illegal in Japan.”

“They’re not illegal here,” Victor said. “I do agree with you, there is much less beauty to a gun. But Yuuri, you give it such grace. The curve of your body when you hold a weapon, the power in your body and arms when you resist the recoil…” Victor purred softly. 

“I don’t understand the attraction,” Yuuri coughed. Victor stretched with a low groan, the hem of his shirt riding up to expose the bottom edge of the bandages around his middle. Yuuri flushed red and turned away. 

The response was immediate and invulnerable, and it left him feeling nauseous again.

“What changed?” Victor asked. 

Yuuri looked up. “Hmm?”

“You refused to touch me and let me touch you. Then you were grinding your hips back against me in the firing range-” Yuuri made a sound of protest, “and then, of course, what happened next…”

Yuuri took a slow breath, shaking his head. “I don’t know. I really don’t know. Am I fixed? Am I worse? I don’t know and I hate it. I’m sick of feeling like this. I don’t want to talk about it.”

He was mad, but only at himself. 

His eyes burned and Victor was at his side immediately, looking at him like he’d hung the stars. A shameless puppy, in essence. Yuuri saw his hands, and for a moment, he remembered how they’d looked covered in blood. He couldn’t breathe. 

_ What have I done— there’s so much blood— this is what I deserve— pain, pain, happiness is earned and I don’t deserve— _

Yuuri shook himself. Victor was staring. Yuuri slid the gun toward Victor. “I don’t want this. Take it back where it was.”

“Are you really that opposed to carrying it?” Victor asked. He frowned. “I thought it would make things better.”

“It doesn’t,” Yuuri said. “I won’t be like you.”

There was a beat. Then the plastic smile was back in an instant. “You really believe that, too.” Victor stepped away. 

Yuuri rose onto his hands and knees, frowning. “What does that mean?” Victor walked toward the door. “Victor! What does that mean?” Yuuri hopped to his feet and followed after. 

Victor smiled back as he walked down the stairs. Yuuri followed him as he stepped barefoot into the kitchen. The floors, Yuuri realized, had been mopped clean. He even smelled a hint of bleach in the air, like a sour tang. 

Yuuri cautiously seated himself on the counter, watching Victor prepare a batter for what looked like extremely thin pancakes. He poured some into a pan.

“Crepes?” Yuuri asked. Victor sliced up strawberries with a large bread knife while they cooked. The blade flashed with each cut. 

“The first thing I ever learned to cook,” Victor said at last. “Not as difficult to do as they appear. I enjoyed having sex with you, by the way. I know you’re upset still, but it was very good for me. Your body moves in the most beautiful ways.”

Yuuri coughed until he couldn’t breath. “W-what? I- You're joking, right? You got what you wanted. You don’t have to flatter me.”

“It’s not flattery if it’s the truth. If I wanted to find a compliant, passionless hole to fuck, I would visit a bar or club. Instead, I found you.”

“Abducted me,” Yuuri muttered. 

Victor laughed. “True. But you kissed me first, my sweet, prickly Yuuri. And I’ll eagerly await the next.”

“Be waiting a while,” Yuuri muttered. “Why were _ crepes _the first thing you learned to cook?”

“My mother was French. Didn’t I say that?” Yuuri shook his head. “Oh, well, she was. She had a fondness for the cuisine and never really acquired a taste for my father’s Russian favorites. I grew up around both. And you? Do you cook?”

Yuuri looked away. “Not anymore.”

“But you did?”

Yuuri crossed his arms, hesitating. Victor’s forearms flexed with each slice, the berry leaking juice over the cutting board in thin, crimson rivulets. _ Blood is thicker. _

“What was the last thing you cooked?”

“Ramen,” Yuuri said. “Instant ramen, in a cup.”

“I don’t mean cup ramen. I mean the last time you got out a skillet and made real food,” Victor chided.

“I… I don’t know,” Yuuri murmured. “I don’t remember.” He thought back. He’d tossed salads together, but those were never more than a few veggies mixed with vinaigrette. “... maybe… stir fry?”

“Sounds delicious. Maybe you’ll fix it for me sometime.” Yuuri shivered and wrapped his arms around himself.

“I’d ruin it,” Yuuri muttered. 

“Can I touch you?” Victor asked suddenly. 

Yuuri flinched back. “Why would you want to do that?” 

Victor looked him over, almost impassive for a moment before life sparkled into his eyes. “Because I want to. Just your hands?”

Yuuri stared, eyes narrow, slowly offering his hand. Victor took it gently. There was a tremble in Yuuri’s fingers as their skin brushed, softly at first, then more firm. Yuuri sucked in a breath.

Touching Victor. He could see blood on their hands, dripping down his fingers, thick with viscera and chunks of flesh. His pulse rocketed up, ratcheting faster and faster until suddenly it seemed to explode within him. 

He ripped his hand away, and the blood disappeared. 

“Fuck,” Yuuri gasped. He wrapped his trembling hand up in the other, clutching close to his chest. _ Get a grip_. Victor turned to tend to the crepes, casting a glance back over his shoulder. “Why do you bother cooking?” Yuuri asked, desperate to distract himself. 

“Why? I want to.”

“But you- you can afford to buy anything you want for dinner. Look at this place,” Yuuri said. “Why aren’t you eating gourmet everything? Caviar and escargot and whatever.”

“Home cooked is satisfying, and I’m not altogether fond of snails. What I cook, it’s something I’ve created with my own hands. I know everything that went into it. It’s the same reason I use a knife instead of a gun. The intimacy of it appeals to me. And I think you like eating home-cooked food better, too, which is a nice added bonus.”

“I don’t care,” Yuuri said. Victor studied his expression for a moment. 

“I think you do,” Victor said at last. “No one says you have to come down here and watch me cook, and yet you do, willingly. You just… seem more interested in eating when it doesn’t come out of a takeout box.”

Yuuri looked away. He wrapped his arms around himself. “Your cooking tastes better anyway,” he admitted in a small voice, defeated for now. He couldn’t stop thinking of the way he’d ripped his hand away. 

He was so weak and pathetic. He hated it. 

“Why can’t I get over this?” he whispered. He shook his head. 

Victor, to his surprise, answered. “I have some theories. I’m not sure which is correct, but I don’t mind sharing.”

Yuuri watched Victor plating up another crepe. He kicked his heels as he watched. “Really. You think you know?”

“I think I have ideas, but I’m not certain. And it might prove to be a combination of any of these things. I have no way to be sure yet.”

“Really,” Yuuri said. He stopped swinging his legs, unimpressed. “Then tell me. What’s wrong with me?”

“The first option is that you have lingering trauma attached to it. Chadley hurt you, and now you see his malicious designs in every other touch.”

“He wasn’t always hurting me,” Yuuri said. “I would have left if it was nothing but pain.”

Victor’s expression shifted a little, subtle and wordless but told Yuuri volumes. Victor’s expression was able to convey a thousand things without more than a single twitch of an eyebrow, the tiniest curve of his lip. He’d just found something. 

“I think that’s true. Which leads to my next theory. It’s pride.”

Yuuri laughed, cold and unamused. “I don’t have any pride left. Look at me.”

“And that’s where you’re wrong. You are so full of a beautiful, stubborn pride. It shows in your dancing, your attitude, even the way you’re acting right now. You’re so full of pride that you can’t bear it. And _ that _is why you don’t let anyone touch you.”

“Like I said, I have no pride,” Yuuri scoffed. “Not anymore.”

“So if I took away the dance studio, told you it didn’t matter anyway-”

“You wouldn’t,” Yuuri said. 

“You sound sure of that answer. Why are you so sure?”

Yuuri faltered. “I- You- I don’t know.” He grimaced. 

“And it kills you that you don’t, I can see it on your face. That’s pride, cupcake.” Victor smiled smugly. Yuuri grumbled and turned away. “That’s also pride!” Victor called. 

Yuuri glared at Victor. Victor’s uncontrollable grin was spreading like a wildfire over his face. 

He let out a frustrated growl. “Fine, I’m prideful, I’m stubborn. I accept that. So what’s the other theory you have?”

“It’s just me,” Victor said with a shrug. “That I’m the reason you don’t want to be touched. Do you let your friends touch you?”

“My friend is dead now because of you,” Yuuri said with a cold stare. “But no, she didn’t touch me either. Not outside of dance. But her brother was also very protective, and he thought I was a closet pervert.”

“And why did he think that?” Victor asked, clearly chuffed. 

Yuuri shrugged. “No idea. He was just protective. Clearly not protective enough.” He glared at Victor, who smiled innocently back. 

“So then if it’s not me, and you say it’s not the trauma, then I would theoretically just have to break through the stubbornness?”

Yuuri clenched his fists, clutching the edge of the table. “Theoretically. If I wanted to.”

“Do you want to?” Victor asked. 

Yuuri sat quietly. The silence of the room weighed on him. Freedom from the monster in the back of his mind. Could Victor do that? A serial killer, of course, who else could kill the lingering hesitation? 

Yuuri winced. “I hate feeling like this. I hate feeling so…”

“Out of control?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri said. He shook his head as Victor finished decorating the plate. A long sigh slipped from his lips and he shook his head like a dog. “I’m mad at myself. I’m mad at you, at Bradley, at everyone, but mostly, I’m just… angry with myself and how weak I am.”

“I’m starting to see that,” Victor said. “I can try again, if you’d like?”

“Just… small touches,” Yuuri said. “Nothing to my neck. Nothing if I tell you to stop. Right?”

“Of course, I can do that,” Victor said. He presented two identical plates of strawberries and cream crepes. “A little treat for today, let’s go to the TV room to eat.”

Victor was humming. Yuuri watched suspiciously as they walked the way there. His moods were so unpredictable, but… The more Yuuri watched, the more he seemed to notice patterns. They seemed almost… tied to Yuuri’s. 

They were not quite one-to-one, of course. Victor seemed the most thrilled when Yuuri was overwhelmed and overwrought. But when Yuuri was happy, Victor was happy, and when Yuuri became agitated, so too did Victor, like a push/pull that drew them one way and another.

Yuuri wondered if it would be possible to use it to his advantage. Something to consider at a later time, perhaps. Yuuri stabbed a strawberry and swept it through a cloud of soft whipped cream. 

“So… if you really want to do something, what would you do?” Yuuri asked. 

“About the touch, or in general? Because I enjoy watching movies with you if that’s what you’re asking.”

“About the touch. I’m not going to make any progress if I just keep flinching back.”

“I’ll just keep pushing you then.”

Yuuri hummed. “I’ll snap. I know I will.”

“Eventually you’ll bend instead of break. It’s just a matter of when.”

“So you’ll be throwing everything at the wall and seeing what sticks. Because that’s certainly going to work well,” Yuuri said. “And then you’ll get bored and kill me. Am I right?”

Victor hummed. “So little faith in your own life. We can start soon, if you like.”

“Sure,” Yuuri murmured. He took a bite. “I can’t wait to flinch away and prove time and time again how mentally weak I am.”

“I’m glad you feel that way,” Victor said cheerily, ignoring the dry sarcasm that was dripping from Yuuri’s every word. “Because I’m not going to go easy on you.”

* * *

Hours passed, but nothing materialized. They moved to the studio to dance as they always did. So often, Victor would reach out, almost _ almost _ brushing his fingers against Yuuri’s skin. 

But each time, he’d pull away the way he always did. _ Not going easy_, Victor said. This felt like an insult. Yuuri pirouetted, and Victor’s touch was buffered by open inches of air. Yuuri would tense, awaiting the touch, and then it never came. 

“What are you doing?” 

Victor just smiled. “Patience. I’ll give you what you need when the time is right.”

“I don’t think you even know what that is,” Yuuri said. His stomach churned uneasily. His mind was screaming. 

“There will be a moment when you want it more than you are repulsed by it. I'm just waiting for that moment.”

“It’ll never happen,” Yuuri said desperately. “If you want to break me, just do it. Just do something!”

But Victor smiled still, and he said nothing, and he touched nothing. Yuuri seethed. 

* * *

**June 14, 2019**

Morning came without a single touch. Victor was at work, and the house felt painfully empty and quiet. 

_ Waiting for that moment. _Waiting for a moment that would never come. Victor knew it. Yuuri knew it. Lies, all of it. 

Whatever Victor wanted, he wanted Yuuri to break. Oh, he gave his pretty words, wanted to see Yuuri bend to his will. And maybe on some level Yuuri wanted to see if he could do it. 

The man who took the dance world by storm, then left in a trail of fire and glory. The man who seized a company worth millions and made it worth billions. Yuuri stood, circling the room. 

The video games left him hollow and bored. The studio was a tease, and not one Yuuri was inclined to indulge in. He felt listless and anxious. The silence was overbearing. 

It was something he would never be used to, no matter how old he was. As a child, he’d grown up in an onsen. A place of business like that was never quiet, between the customers, the constant discord of family, the snuffles and woofs of Yuuri’s precious puppy running wild through the house. 

Yuuri often felt alone as a child. It wasn’t until everything was gone and the silence came, that he realized the truth. The silence was scary. It was what it meant to be truly alone. 

The silence had fucked with him when Victor was on his trip, made him do and say things he regretted even today. It was doing the same now. 

Yuuri wanted the silence to stop. 

The gun stayed on the bedside table, untouched. The knife, he pulled out, opening the blade and closing it. The steady _ click, click, click _did nothing to fill the emptiness of the air. 

* * *

**June 15, 2019**

Yuuri was ready to snap. 

It had only been two days since Victor’s declaration, and he was so on edge he was ready to break. He’d snipped at Victor four times already today, and he spent most of his time flinching when Victor stepped near. 

The most frustrating thing was that Victor had still done nothing. He’d barely touched Yuuri twice since he said he would: once as a soft brush to Yuuri’s shoulder as Victor had passed, the other as a swift grab for Yuuri’s fingers that made Yuuri shriek and rip his hand back in shock. 

Yuuri was waiting for the other shoe to drop. It would happen sometime or another. A touch that pushed him over the edge. The touch that would leave him broken and bruised when Victor bored of his game. 

The marks on Yuuri’s neck were incredibly faint. They were already healed, so much faster than any of Bradley’s injuries. Yuuri didn’t trust Victor at all, and yet his entire world was now firmly planted in Victor’s palms, waiting for the moment when something would happen. 

It was the anticipation that proved to be the worst part. Victor said he would touch Yuuri. Yuuri had given him what was essentially free reign, like a _ fool _, and all Yuuri could think about was how Victor hadn't taken advantage at all. 

Was Victor bored now that he’d gotten what he wanted? Yuuri had played into his hands like a desperate whore, letting Victor put a gun in his sweaty palms and then fuck him. 

This was stupid. He wasn’t going to fix Yuuri. He was going to let Yuuri burn himself out, explode from the pressure and then kill himself with that gun on the bedside table. 

Or _ worse_. 

Victor hummed as he cooked, but he didn’t spare a look at Yuuri the entire time he prepared their meal that night. Yuuri could scarcely breathe. They didn’t speak a single word to each other.

It was worse than when Victor was on his trip. At least when Victor was away, Yuuri had a reasonable belief that Victor was occupied with radically more important things than his little ‘pet’. But Victor was here, Victor was so, _ so _ close, and yet he paid Yuuri no more attention now than he did to any other thing in his house. 

Yuuri was going to snap if something didn’t change. 

“Something wrong?” Victor asked, cocking his head toward Yuuri at last. Yuuri grimaced and looked away. 

“I’m fine. Everything’s fine,” Yuuri said through clenched teeth. The meal was served, and another fitful night passed. 

A third night, then a fourth. Yuuri was shaking. 

Watching Victor cook was routine now. He sat on the edge of the counter in a too-large kitchen, watching Victor step around industrial sized ovens that could feed an army. 

The silence roared. 

The whole house was designed to entertain, and yet it never did. It was only ever them— Victor and Yuuri, alone in a big, quiet house. Yuuri trembled down in his very bones. What if Yuuri wasn’t enough? 

The thought soured in his mind. Victor was going to get bored… and when Victor got bored, his attention would wander. He’d kill others. Flirt with disaster. And Yuuri was surprised how _ pissed _it left him. 

How many times had Bradley told him there was nothing? No others in _ their _bed, no lingering looks when Yuuri couldn’t see, no text messages on the phone Yuuri wasn’t allowed to touch. He’d told Yuuri that it was his imagination. Silence filled with meaningless words. 

How cruel of Yuuri, to think Bradley was cheating on him. Did Yuuri have so little faith in _ them _ together? Bradley was ‘betrayed and shocked’. 

And then there was Victor, who told Yuuri to his face that he’d killed another dancer. But he’d- he’d still- 

Yuuri sucked in a breath. The silence was so loud. Yuuri could feel it screaming inside him. 

_ He had to run. _ The thought rang in his mind, harsh as alarm bells. _ He needed to get out of this. He can’t do it again. How could he ever trust someone, even someone like Victor? Especially someone like Victor. _

Victor smiled as he turned around, two steaming plates in his hands. Freshly cooked. He wouldn’t touch Yuuri. It was just a tease. “Alright, let’s go eat!” Victor chirped brightly. His smile was sweet as sugar, and Yuuri knew it was rotting him from the inside out. 

This was for the best. For both of them. 

In a daze, Yuuri staggered to his feet. Victor walked down the hallway to where they always ate together. Yuuri looked toward the front door. For the best. 

He didn’t remember the first shaky steps toward the front door, but he remembered the moment his hand closed around the doorknob. It didn’t give at first, but it was a simple deadbolt holding the door shut. Yuuri unlocked it. It was that easy. 

The door whispered open, and Yuuri tasted fresh air on his tongue. It sent a ripple of primal _ fear _down his spine. It was quiet, barely a sound outside. Just the whisper of wind through heavy green trees, and a silent driveway leading down from the house to the empty street below. 

Yuuri took a step onto the porch. It wasn’t late, maybe only six or seven. Two hours of daylight left at least, and the air was pleasantly warm on his skin after the aggressive air conditioning inside. He stepped down off the porch. 

The pavement was rough on his socked feet, grass catching the wind on either side of him. Above, the sky was open and clear, a stunning deep blue that was streaked through with the first shots of sunset. It was too big, too much, but inside held the same overwhelming feelings. There was an overwhelming fear no matter where he looked. He had to escape. He had to be free. 

Yuuri took another shaky step. Then another. He broke into a run. His head was swirling wildly. He couldn’t think, couldn’t form anything resembling coherent thought. 

_ This was better for them both. _

Honestly, it would be. Yuuri could go back to the way things were before, back when things at least made sense. Before Victor twisted his mind and made him lose all sense of reality. 

Before Victor made him this thing that got so jealous over another man’s murder. 

Yeah, that was the kicker. Yuuri wasn’t stupid. Victor would get himself caught eventually— all serial killers did, right? It was a matter of when, not if. And the further Yuuri ran, the harsher his breath through his lungs, the more Yuuri became cemented in this. 

Yuuri would be— maybe not normal, maybe never normal, but… closer. Something almost human. It was all he could hope for. He ran harder. 

Away from the madness. Away from the studio, away from the menagerie of paper animals, away from _ Victor. _He couldn’t breathe, and the hours passed by in a blink. 

It was soon full dark outside, and Yuuri was still running. His feet bled through the socks, and yet he couldn’t bear to stop. Night gave Yuuri a vision of light pollution in the distance, still so painfully far away, but it was within reach all the same.

Cars were far and few on this road. They rumbled past without stopping. Yuuri slowed to a walk. He was free at last, and Yuuri’s mind had never felt so trapped. 

He could barely stumble anymore. He was delirious with the pain in his feet. Shards of rock and gravel bit into the meat of his soles. He knew he was a mess, and he looked the part, too. The silence still screamed. 

Solitude made him think. There was nothing else to do while walking. Lights lit up the street, and Yuuri edged to the side of the road, avoiding the car he heard come up behind him. 

Rather than blaze past, it rolled to a slow creep beside him. A woman with short brown hair pulled up beside him. “Lost, kid?”

Yuuri wiped his tears away. “I’m fine, thanks.”

“Long way from town. Sure you don’t want a ride?” The car's engine purred temptingly. Yuuri’s aching feet begged him to sit. He opened the offered car door and sat down. The air conditioner ate away the evening mugginess. 

“Do you pick people up off the side of the road in the middle of the night very often? How do you know I’m not a serial killer?” Yuuri asked. He squinted at the woman. 

She laughed. “Kid, you’re so scrawny I could take you with my eyes closed. I see runaways a lot, but you look a bit older than most. How old are ya, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“23,” Yuuri said. “Not a runaway. Just… lost.”

“Without shoes? I’m not gonna press, just wanna get you somewhere safe.” It was quiet for a while. “You have anywhere you want to go?” she asked. 

Yuuri looked out at the dash, through the windshield, gazing at the empty road before them. “Um… take me to...” He recited the address, and hoped to god this wasn’t a terrible mistake. 

* * *

**June 18, 2019**

It was late, or maybe early. The clock on the dash said it was just past midnight when they finally pulled up to the apartment. 

It was so familiar, it brought tears to his eyes. The lights outside the door were on, the same rickety concrete stoop outside the entry. “Thank you,” Yuuri whispered. 

“No problem, kiddo! Good luck!” The woman waved as she drove away. 

Yuuri keyed the code into the door, hands shaking. The tiny lobby was dark, the lights dim. He blinked, and the door to the apartment was right there. He didn’t have a key. After all this time, all these months, the only thing he had in his pocket was the gleaming knife, the only thing left to his name. 

He hesitated. Then he knocked, once, twice, three tiny knocks. 

It was quiet at first, then he knocked more firmly. Yuuri was breathing harder, faster, suddenly out of breath. His pulse was flighting through his veins. He suddenly wondered what Victor was doing now. Victor had to know he was gone— did he care? Would he even wonder where Yuuri was gone? 

Did Bradley ever wonder?

The door opened two inches, catching on the chain. “Who the fuck- _ Yuuri?” _ A scratchy voice, rough with sleep, came through the door. It slammed shut, and Yuuri heard the scrape of the chain being undone. The door opened fully. “Yuuri? Is that you?”

Yuuri coughed. “Um… yes?” He caught sight of himself in the mirror of their entryway. It was not a pretty sight. In fact, it seemed almost unreal. It was like waking from a dream where he never once considered how he looked, but everything was _ wrong. _

His hair was lank in his face, a little greasy, very sweaty, and longer than it had ever been before. The clothes were just as sweaty as his hair. He probably smelled ripe as fresh garbage. Wild-eyed, sleepless, exhausted. Yuuri was a walking disaster. 

“Where the hell have you been?” Bradley asked. He opened the door further and Yuuri stepped inside. Bradley looked like he’d just rolled out of bed from a deep sleep, hair sticking up and messy. 

Yuuri was shaking. “I- I can’t say. It’s fine. It’s okay. I- can I take a shower?” 

“Y-yeah?” Bradley said, stepping aside. “Uh, sure. Come on in.”

Yuuri lowered his head, and he walked through the painfully familiar apartment. It was filthy. There were clothes strewn everywhere, cheap takeout boxes littering the floors. It was as messy as when he and Bradley first started dating. 

Victor at least kept his house clean. Immaculate, actually. It was a night and day difference. 

Yuuri grabbed a towel and stepped into the hot water. It was… not as hot as expected. But it got him clean, rinsed the sweat and dirt from his skin. The old bandages for his feet were still in the cabinet beneath the sink, so he sat on the lid of the toilet and bound them up. 

He stepped out of the bathroom in just the towel. 

Bradley shuffled around. “I uh… I have your stuff. What I could find, anyway. Some of it went missing.” At his feet was a scuffed cardboard box full of clothes. Yuuri quietly thanked him and stepped back into the bathroom. 

He came back out to a mug of coffee sitting on his old spot on the couch. Yuuri felt a pang in his heart. It was things like this that had kept Yuuri here, year after year. _ His _place on the couch. His mug, with the silly cartoon poodle on it he’d found in a dollar store. Familiarity. 

Yuuri ran a thumb over the knife in his pocket. All of this was how Yuuri told himself Bradley had once loved him. 

Bradley was staring like he’d seen a ghost. 

“You didn’t wonder where I had gone?” Yuuri asked lightly. 

Bradley blinked. “What do you mean, of course I want to know.”

“I mean, you didn’t report me missing. Wasn’t it suspicious? I vanished without any of my things, just my wallet…”

“I-” Bradley stammered. “Well, I- I was… busy.”

“Right, of course,” Yuuri said. Busy with his booze and Rebecca, of course. “Dated anyone while I was gone?” 

Bradley coughed. “Uh. Not really. No.”

“What about Rebecca?” Yuuri asked coldly. “You don’t have to lie to me.”

Bradley went red to the tips of his ears, then shook his head, scowling. “Slept with a director in Cincinnati, that fucking bitch. Left the show partway through the run and left me with two understudies as the leads.”

Yuuri sat back, shocked as he digested this new info. 

“Please,” Bradley begged. “Please come back to me. I know I fucked up. I was terrible to you. I should have never cheated, and I swear I learned my lesson. Come back, Yuuri.”

Yuuri wavered. The silence screamed in his ears. “I…” he whispered. 

“I don’t care where you went the last few months, or who you fucked, or whatever. I’ll put you back in the show. You’ll have your name in lights, babe. No one will ever hope of touching you so long as I have a say.”

“No,” Yuuri said. 

Bradley blinked at him, like he had heard Yuuri wrong. “What did you say?”

Yuuri didn’t want another handout. He didn’t want Bradley crawling on his hands and knees again, begging for forgiveness that he never earned. He wanted to step on Bradley like an insect underfoot. He wanted Bradley to hurt like he did. 

Yuuri’s voice hardened. “I said no. I’m not coming back. This is the last time. We’re done and over.” He stood up, grabbing his box of stuff. “Thanks for my things. And the shower. Have a nice life, asshole. You’ve already ruined mine enough.”

The table slammed violently onto its side as Bradley shoved it out of the way. “The hell did you just say to me?”

“I said you ruined my life,” Yuuri enunciated clearly, slowly enough for even Bradley to understand it. “I don’t want stardom if I don’t earn it. I never did. And that was something you never understood. So I’m going to go find it myself.”

“You bitch!” Bradley screamed. “Ruined your life? You ruined mine! You left right before the show of the season! Do you know how badly all those showings went? It was a nightmare! Why the fuck did you disappear for fucking months-”

“Shut up,” Yuuri said. Bradley broke off. 

His eyes burned like fire. “Oh, nuh uh. You don’t tell me to shut up,” Bradley said. He advanced on Yuuri. Yuuri felt a ripple of panic tear through him. 

There was a click, and the knife was in his hand, blade bared and gleaming in the low light. Bradley sneered. “Kitten got claws now? Babe, we both know you’re not gonna use that. Put it down.”

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Yuuri hissed. He grabbed Bradley’s cellphone off the floor. Of course the password didn’t work, Bradley changed that weekly and never told Yuuri what it was. But you didn’t need a passcode to dial 911, and he held the screen up, finger hovering over the call button. “You pull fucking anything, and I’m pressing it,” Yuuri warned him. 

“Why the _ fuck _ did you come here?” Bradley said.

“I wanted my stuff. I wanted to shower. And I wanted to tell you we’re over. I thought that was clear when I said I was leaving.”

“You don’t fucking leave me, you need me! What the fuck do you want? Want the lead again? A pay raise? C’mon, baby.”

“Don’t baby me,” Yuuri hissed. He backed up, spine hitting the wall. 

“Give me the phone, Yuuri,” Bradley said in a low voice. Yuuri fumbled it, and Bradley lunged.

Yuuri let out a furious scream. “Get away from me, you bastard!”

“Shut the fuck up!” Bradley yelled. His fist came down, faster than Yuuri could dodge it. The blow glanced over his cheekbone, and Bradley made a grab for the knife. It skittered over the floor, along with the phone. 

Yuuri screamed and lunged for the knife first, barely closing his fingers around it before Bradley could. He scrabbled for the cell phone. Bradley took it. 

Their eyes went wide. It was already dialed, and a tinny voice echoed that help was on the way. 

Yuuri was surprised how fast the police showed up. He thought there would be at least a few more minutes delay, time that would have been spent most likely running from Bradley’s house and finding somewhere to sit until things cooled off. 

Of course the one time Yuuri was counting on the painfully slow response times of Detroit police, it was the one time they were prompt. 

By the time Yuuri gathered up his things, ready to storm off, the police had already blocked the hallway. They’d been nearby and the call had brought them right here. “Look, it’s nothing,” Bradley said quickly. “Just an argument.”

Yuuri pointed to the slowly growing bruise on his face. “This is not an argument. This is you being a monster,” Yuuri hissed. “I was ready to leave, and you tried to stop me.”

“Alright, we’re going to get your accounts, please just be patient with us,” one of the two officers said. The taller of the two pulled Yuuri aside. “Now, sir, what happened?”

“I got here about thirty minutes ago. I wanted a shower and to get my stuff. And I wanted to tell him we were over.”

“And when you broke up with him, he turned violent?” the officer said.

“That is what happened,” Yuuri said, narrowing his eyes at Bradley over the cop’s shoulder. He dared Bradley to refute the fact. 

“He pulled a knife on me,” Bradley said. 

“You flipped a table and threatened me-“

“Enough!” The officer waited until there was silence and resumed taking notes. “What were you doing coming in at this hour?” 

The questions peppered one after another and Yuuri was twitching. The tension in his body strung tighter and tighter. He just wanted to leave. He wanted this to end. His eyes burned. 

This had been a horrible mistake. 

The cramped room felt too big, too alien. He couldn't bear it. Just being here made his body crawl like insects under his skin. 

The officer speaking to him kept frowning, scratching his head like there was something on the tip of his tongue. “I’m sorry, what was your name again?”

“Yuuri,” he said. “Yuuri Katsuki”

“Yuuri Katsuki? You’re aware that the police have been looking for you for months now, right?” The officer said. He looked genuinely baffled to see Yuuri standing in front of him, his expression a little vacant and his hat lopsided on his head.

“What?” Yuuri said. “I didn’t see it on the news. No one said anything?”

The cop looked properly sheepish. “They did slow down the broadcasts a lot over the last few months.” He coughed and tried to look professional. “What I mean is, we just want to ask a few more questions and make sure everything is alright.”

“Everything is fine,” Yuuri said. “I’m healthy and I’m here. Nothing else matters anymore.” He just wanted to leave. 

“Where were you when you were considered missing?” 

“I was…” What would he even say? Kidnapped? Definitely not that, he’d never be left alone again. With a friend? “With Victor. He was teaching me new dance techniques at his house.” Somewhat true. 

“Victor…?”

“Nikiforov. He’s a retired professional in the business,” Yuuri said succinctly. Also true. Across the room, Bradley fell silent, a sick expression crossing his face. 

The cop took notes. “Why did no one see you? No one has been able to contact you for months.” Fuck. 

“It was a privacy thing,” Yuuri said, a bit more harshly than necessary. It seemed like a good excuse. 

He took a second to chose his words more carefully. He had to keep the lie perfect. If someone suspected a thing, this would never just die. 

“I was cut off from the outside world in a kind of… retreat. It was for my mental health. I discovered I was being cheated on by Bradley and I wanted to reevaluate my life. And Victor’s house was… well, I couldn’t bring myself to leave for a long time. I…” Yuuri trailed off. “I got a lot of support there… that I needed.”

Yuuri looked at the mirror. By now, even the darkest marks of the Victor’s mistake had faded away, and Yuuri’s skin was cleaner than ever, unmarred by any scrapes or scuffs, save for the slowly purpling mark on his cheek. 

How many times had Yuuri looked in that living room mirror, and seen a bedraggled, too-skinny rat staring back at him? Yuuri looked tired, but he looked… hale, hearty, well fed. He looked healthy. Pale, but healthy. 

“The only bruises I have on me these days are the ones on my feet from dancing,” Yuuri said. “Which is more than I can say for when I lived with _ him_,” Yuuri said, glaring at Bradley. “Victor… Victor takes care of me.”

“It had to be him, of fucking course. You let him fuck you, too?” Bradley hissed. “Little slut. Is he giving you parts in shows now, too? Promising you everything when you spread your legs for him? I should have known!”

Yuuri choked, shocked, outraged. “Victor isn’t- he hasn’t- well, we- it’s not your business what I do.”

The other officer separated them more, distancing Bradley from Yuuri. 

He answered more questions that pried into his time alone. Those questions seemed to go on forever, numbing his mind until he gave only sparse, one word answers for the most part. 

“Please, are we almost done?” Yuuri said. “I haven’t done anything wrong. I just want to take my stuff and leave.”

At that time, there was a faint knock on the door, and the officers turned their heads, clearly not expecting anyone. 

The one near Yuuri’s side opened the door, revealing Victor standing in the doorway looking worried. “Yuuri, there you are! I was so worried about you.”

“Victor?” Yuuri said. He glanced at the cops, alarmed, then back at Victor. Bradley was gaping like he’d seen a ghost. 

“I was so scared when you left,” Victor said. “I was looking everywhere for you.” He brushed past the cops, not quite touching Yuuri, but with an unmistakable intimacy in his closeness. “Is everything alright?”

“I’m fine,” Yuuri said. His heart was hammering. How did Victor find him, why was Victor here? Everything seemed to be right on the cusp of going wrong, teetering on that crumbling edge and ready to fall into failure. 

“What the everloving _ fuck _ are you doing in my home?” Bradley spat. “You fucking bastard, you stole my fucking boyfriend-”

Victor beamed. “Ah, this charming man must be the ex I’ve heard so much about. I’m Victor Nikiforov. I’d say it was nice to meet you, but I dislike lying on principle.” Bradley began cussing loudly. Victor ignored him and turned to the police. “Has Yuuri done anything wrong?”

“He pulled a knife on Mr. Chadeau,” the officer said. 

“In self defense,” Yuuri hissed. “He punched me in the face and flipped a table. I just want to go home.” The police could see the mark creeping over Yuuri’s face. 

“Well, we’ll be in contact, Mr. Katsuki. For now, we will be taking Mr. Chadeau into custody.” In the background, Bradley began screaming as the officers arrested him, fighting them and hollering at the top of his lungs. “Please see to getting your phone back in working order so we can contact you for more information if we require it.”

“Of course,” Yuuri said, already knowing that would never happen. They left the screaming Bradley behind. Yuuri’s whole body was practically shaking. Victor smiled, his perfect, winsome, absolutely _ fake _smile. How could they not see it as fake?

And yet it hadn’t been obvious to Yuuri until recently. The smile Victor wore in public was always fake. The only genuine smiles seemed reserved for Yuuri. 

“Come on, Yuuri, do you want to go home?”

Yuuri grabbed his bag and nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

Both of them were quiet as they left the apartment, walking past the flashing lights of the police cruisers. A shiny black car was parked in the lot beside them. 

“How did you find me?” Yuuri asked. His voice cracked. “Did you know I’d come here?”

“This is the last place I thought you’d go, to be honest. After what happened, I thought you’d never want to see his face again. I checked the cameras, unsure, and… there you were. You went back, Yuuri?” Victor’s voice cracked, like it was betrayed. 

“I had to, but not for the reason you think,” Yuuri said, looking away. “I had to go.”

“You had to end it?” Victor asked. Yuuri nodded, then flashed him a questioning look. “I had the video feed up while I drove here. Broke a few speeding laws to find you, too,” Victor added with a soft chuckle. There was a hint of an edge though, buried underneath it all.

“I didn’t need you to come get me,” Yuuri said. He looked away. 

Victor was quiet for a long time. After a beat, he said, “Are you upset I came?”

“I don’t know.” Victor held the door open for him, and Yuuri hesitated outside it for only a split second. Chills raced down his spine. Yuuri closed his eyes and sat in the car. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“Where would you have gone, after you left Chadley’s house?” Victor asked. He closed the door and started to walk around the front of the car, to the driver’s side. 

Yuuri looked out the window. Victor sat in the driver’s seat, but the answer took several more seconds to come. “I don’t know that either. I don’t know, Victor. I don’t know anything. I don’t know what I want or where I want to go, or why I want it.”

“You want to dance,” Victor offered. Yuuri shrugged. “Do you not want that anymore?”

“I still do, I guess. I want to dance so badly it hurts. But do I really want that? Do I deserve that?”

“You deserve all that and more, my beautiful Yuuri. I would see you on the finest stage in the world, if you only wished it.” Yuuri bristled. “Not handed to you on a silver platter, my sweet, but through your own talent and skills.” 

Yuuri deflated. There were things he wanted. Things he shouldn’t want, but desired all the same. Things he should never have, if he was sane. “What’s the point?” he whispered. “I can’t allow myself to want these kinds of things. All of it, it’s disgusting, it’s wrong.”

“Is it really so wrong?” Victor asked. “This thing you want, that you aren’t allowed to want. What’s the harm?”

“Begone, shoulder demon,” Yuuri said, though there was almost no emotion in it. “It sounds like you’re tempting innocents into corruption with those words.” 

“Who says I’m not?” Victor smiled. It was the real one, and Yuuri’s heart raced faster. The car rumbled to a start. “You have to tell me where you want to go, Yuuri. You know your options. You have to make your choice.”

Yuuri closed his eyes. He was a fool. A moron. And yet that was what Yuuri would always be, wouldn’t it? Destined to find himself in the claws of strange beasts with strange tastes, a prisoner to the whims of another. What did he want?

“Why didn’t you touch me?” Yuuri said. “You said you would. You said you’d push me until I broke.”

“You did break,” Victor said. “Not in the way I expected, I’ll admit, but then again, when do you ever do quite what I expect? I want to pull you into my arms. When I was in that apartment, I wanted to take you in my arms, hold you the way I held you before. But I wasn’t sure of how you’d react.”

If that had happened…. If Victor had taken him into his arms in front of Bradley. Yuuri felt his hands begin to shake, though the emotion behind it tangled in his mind until even he couldn’t tell what it was. It was just a tightness in his chest, something seizing so furiously that Yuuri thought he couldn’t breathe. 

What did he want? He wanted to rise above it all. He wanted to be the best. He wanted…

“Take me back,” Yuuri said, looking up at Victor. His eyes burned, and his hands steadied. “I want to dance in the studio again.”

Victor smiled, something bright and wide and warm and _ real. _The car rolled out of the lot, and Yuuri felt a sinking feeling in his chest, knowing that this would be the moment where his fate was sealed. Come what may, good or bad, this was the road he had chosen. This was the path he would walk. 

He would see this through to the end, even if he died, even if it broke his heart. If it shattered his body and his mind and left him in a ditch somewhere, tied in ribbons and wearing pointe shoes, Yuuri had chosen his fate. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> VICTOR IS DOING THE BEST HE CAN


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor wants to spoil Yuuri.

**June 18, 2019**

They drove through town in silence. In the distance, Yuuri could see the road that would take them to the old cemetery where Sara was buried now. It was strange how numb Yuuri felt to it these days. They drove on, and Yuuri let it fade from his mind. The numbness took over. 

The city gave way to empty country roads, and after a while, they turned onto the driveway. Victor pulled into a garage large enough to house six cars, though only half of the spots were filled. They still didn’t talk when Victor killed the engine, sitting in silence in the low light of the car interior. 

There was a strange feeling of relief that Yuuri didn’t want to look too much into. The roaring in Yuuri’s ears saw to that, the pounding of his pulse so loud it drowned out all else. 

When they didn’t move for several minutes, Victor at last spoke, his voice soft and almost rough. “When you left, I didn’t know what to do. I thought of driving after you. I thought of leaving you to make your own way. I couldn’t decide. I felt so… powerless. I hated it. Every single second of it.”

“You? Powerless?” Yuuri scoffed. 

“You laugh,” Victor said. “You don’t know what you hold in your hands. The things I would do if those officers weren’t there…”

Yuuri felt a rush of heat in the pit of his stomach, nervous energy bubbling up inside him. He swallowed nervously. “Really? And what would you do?”

“I wanted to kill him, obviously. Not because he was beautiful, but because he was so far from it. So filthy and disgusting. The thought of his filthy hands near you,” Victor’s knuckles were white where they gripped the steering wheel too tightly. “I’ve always prided myself on being in control. But I felt so weak in that room.”

Weak didn’t seem to describe the way Victor looked now. He was shaken to his core. A lonely little prince who was always told what to do and when. Aching for control over his own life. 

“You hated it,” Yuuri whispered. “You hated not being in control of the situation. That’s why you got me out.”

“Perhaps,” Victor said. “Perhaps it was my own selfish desires. What if I wanted to recapture you and lock you back in your tower? Keep you safe where you can’t escape from me again.” He offered Yuuri a smile. “I came to steal you back. So imagine my surprise when you came so willingly along with me.”

Yuuri’s chest was so tight it hurt. The furious pounding in his ears grew louder, louder still. “And what if I hadn’t come along?”

Victor seemed caught in surprise. “I would have asked why, first. What was going through your pretty little head when you _ left me and went back to him,” _ Victor hissed to the steering wheel. His eyes flashed dangerously. “Why he consumes so much of your thoughts even now that you would go back to him, after the things he has done.”

Yuuri slowly reached out, tracing his fingers feather-light over the white-knuckle grip Victor had. The muscles relaxed by degrees under the touch. Yuuri held his breath, but Victor didn’t move, except to loosen his grip. 

“I don’t know,” Yuuri said honestly. “I wanted to cut myself off from everything. I wanted to run away from it all.” Yuuri let his head fall back on the seat. “I couldn’t do it again.”

“Again?” Victor said. 

Yuuri nodded. “Bradley… he made me feel like it was my fault he cheated. Like there was some void I couldn’t fill. He always denied it, never told me what he was doing. Lying to my face. I can’t do that again, Victor. I won’t do it again. When you left me here, and you killed that stranger…”

Victor’s eyes sparkled. “It made you upset,” he said. 

“It did,” Yuuri said, looking away again. The truth was at the tip of his tongue. “It actually made me so jealous, I thought I might burst.”

Even looking away, Yuuri could almost _ feel _ the pleased smile curling at the corners of Victor's lips. “You finally see.” Yuuri whipped his head around, burning now. 

“Don’t ever look away from me!” he said urgently. His fists clenched hard. “You tell me to my face, you do not lie and hide. Understand? Don’t look away from me.”

Victor reached out, and he folded Yuuri’s hands in his own, infinitely gentle. Yuuri trembled, flinched, but didn’t pull away just yet. “I couldn’t if I tried. Thank you for coming back with me.” 

Yuuri cast his eyes down at their joined hands. He took a shaky breath, then another, giving Victor’s hand a gentle squeeze. He was shaking hard enough to make both of their arms tremble. He yanked his hand back at last. “I’m not good at sharing. I’m not good at saying how I feel.”

“I’ll just have to watch closer, then,” Victor said with a smile. Then his grin became as giddy as a child’s. “You pulled a knife on Chadley?”

Yuuri’s expression soured. “He punched me first,” he said sulkily. “I’m just lucky I didn’t get arrested, too.”

Victor hummed, laughing softly. “Darling, you were clearly not the instigator there. Well, perhaps you were causing a bit of trouble, mischievous thing. Breaking up in the middle of the night. But you’re safe here.”

“I wanted to stab him,” Yuuri whispered. He glanced toward the place where Victor was still healing from his own stab wound. “Am I a monster? I’ve hurt you, and I wanted to hurt him too. I don’t want to be a monster.” He wrapped his arms around himself. 

“You’re not a monster for defending yourself, Yuuri. What you need is not to be afraid of doing what you must.”

Yuuri sat back. “I don’t even know what I should do, let alone what I must. Let’s just go inside. I want to sleep.”

Victor hummed, and they both stood up from the car, walking back into the house. The humming continued, even as Yuuri stripped off his clothes. He left the cardboard box on the dresser, barely sparing a glance at what little remained of his things. He pulled on one of Victor’s too-big shirts and a soft pair of leggings. 

Victor hit the light on the way into bed. He was dressed in just a pair of long sleep pants, loose and silky-looking, his bare chest unfairly muscular and fit. Yuuri’s eyes lingered on the ugly wound that was so slowly healing. Victor sat down, and Yuuri couldn’t help himself from taking a closer look in the gloom. 

“Does it hurt?” he asked. He didn’t touch it, but his finger trailed through the air, following the short, two inch wide gash in the skin. 

Tidy, homemade stitches welded it shut. Victor shrugged. “It’s a constant reminder of what happens when I push you too far. I won’t make the same mistake twice. It’s a good pain,” Victor said, a bit smugly. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Yuuri scoffed. 

Victor laughed. “And I think you’re sexy when you’re not afraid to use that little knife of yours.” It was quiet again, a little awkward as Yuuri shuffled around in the bed. He closed his eyes, but despite his exhaustion, his mind was racing. 

He turned over in the bed. Victor’s eyes were open and staring. “... What,” Yuuri whispered. 

“Yuuri… if you’re not sleeping yet…” Victor said. Yuuri blinked, furrowing his brow. “Why did you leave?” Yuuri shuffled quietly, not speaking. “If you just wanted to break up, I would have taken you. I would have _ loved _to watch that man’s face when you ended it. You didn’t have to walk there. Especially not barefoot in the middle of the night,” Victor said distastefully. 

“I…” Yuuri mumbled. He exhales slowly. “I wasn’t thinking. I couldn’t explain if I wanted to.”

“Could you try? I want to understand. Was I pushing you too far? Is this how you break?”

“I don’t know! I just had to… end it.” Yuuri huddled down deeper in the blankets, as though it would hide him from the truth. It didn’t hide him from Victor’s words. 

“End what? Your life? Your relationships?” Victor kept poking and poking, and Yuuri felt more raw with every word. “What were you ending?”

“Everything!” Yuuri said desperately. He pushed himself upright, scowling. “I’m weak! I had to do something. I don’t know right from wrong anymore and I’m all mixed up and the only thing I could think of was running!”

Victor let out a slow breath. 

Yuuri buried his face under the blankets and let out a muffled scream. “I want to fix myself. I want to be stronger. But I don’t know _ how.” _

“How far can I push you? How much do you want this?” Victor asked softly. 

“I want it more than anything,” Yuuri said. “I don’t want to be scared. I don’t want to flinch. I don’t want to fear commitment, the future, my own _ career. _And if all you’re going to do is make me wait—”

“I can try something else—”

“No!” Yuuri said. “I want to do this on my terms now. If you want to help me, then let’s do it. Tomorrow, I want to try something new. I’m tired of feeling like this. I’m tired of waiting around for me to wrap my head around how I should think and feel. Tomorrow, or later today, or whenever I wake up again, something is going to happen. And if it doesn’t, I want you to kill me. Do you understand me, Victor Nikiforov?” 

Victor’s eyes were sparkling in the low light. He sucked in a breath, pleased and nodding. “I understand perfectly. What do you have in mind?”

“I’ll explain when we aren’t dead tired. I’m willing to bet you already have everything we’ll need.” And with that, Yuuri flopped on his side, facing away from Victor. His whole body seemed to burn, down to his very core and every inch of his limbs. 

Every exchange, every conversation he’d ever had with Victor had weighed on him all this time, and now it finally seemed clear. There was only one way to break the hold that both anxiety and Bradley had over Yuuri’s mind, one way to make the screaming stop. 

Victor wanted to break Yuuri. Now he’d really get that chance. 

Yuuri was a ball of nerves, unable to sleep. Victor passed out quickly, exhausted after the long night, but noon crept in and found Yuuri just as awake as he was hours ago. 

His eyes burned as Victor yawned and stretched beside him. He smacked his lips as he turned to Yuuri. “Mmm, breakfast first?” Victor asked. 

Yuuri nodded woodenly. 

“Care to tell me your master plan?” Victor asked. 

Yuuri shook his head. “Not yet. I’m sure you’ll like it, though.”

“Whatever you like, it’s yours,” Victor said. “If you think it’ll help, anyway.”

“Glad you’re onboard,” Yuuri said dryly. He followed Victor to the kitchen, watching him throw together a simple egg scramble with ham and veggies. They ate their breakfast, and Victor was visibly enraptured, waiting to hear the rest of it. But the time wasn’t right, not yet. He waited until they had finished eating and moved back to the bedroom, Yuuri’s stomach pleasantly full. 

“So what do you need for your master plan?” Victor asked at last, unable to bear it any longer. 

Yuuri took a slow breath as he eyed the bed frame. It looked solid enough, and with the money Victor threw around, Yuuri felt fairly certain he wouldn’t scrimp on a cheap set up. His voice sounded steadier than he felt as he said, “Bring me rope.”

“Kinky,” Victor teased. Yuuri snorted. 

“I had a feeling you’d like it.”

The reaction was more instantaneous than Yuuri expected. Victor paused halfway out the door, eyes wide, frozen in place as he took in what Yuuri had just said. “I was joking.”

“I wasn’t. Tie me to the headboard.” 

Yuuri silently dared Victor to argue. He pursed his lips tight and stared until Victor finally shifted his weight and crossed his arms. He moved, sinuous as a snake, leveling his eyes with Yuuri. 

“I have no objections, if that’s what you’re afraid of. But I want to make it perfectly clear that if I wanted a broken, useless doll, I could find a more enjoyable way for both of us.”

“You think I can’t take it?” Yuuri could almost smell the challenge, and it had his blood boiling. 

Victor shrugged. “You’ll ask me to stop within seconds. And if you don’t, I honestly can’t say for sure what the end result would be.”

Yuuri seethed. “Then you should have no qualms. Tie me down, and if I say stop, I don’t want you to listen. Keep going. 

Victor’s lips twitched. “There’s a line somewhere in here and I’m not sure if you’re even aware you’re about to cross it. Your masochism is admirable, though.”

“What line am I crossing?” Yuuri said. “You _ murder _ people! How many times have you heard people beg to be let go, beg for mercy, before you ended their lives? What’s different about this?”

“It’s the difference between rape and murder, Yuuri, one of which I consider abhorrent. Listening to your suffering, I admit, gives me great pleasure. Watching you writhe is the purest ecstasy. But without your willing participation, it loses its luster.” 

“You’re a sadist who won't hurt me, then,” Yuuri said. 

“I never said I wouldn’t,” Victor replied. “But we should make one thing clear. That safe word I asked you for, all those long weeks ago? That is your ticket out. If you want to play with BDSM toys, you have to follow the rules.”

“It’s not BDSM,” Yuuri hissed. 

“It is, because to remove the safe word is to make it abuse. It doesn’t matter whether you’re a masochist seeking pleasure from pain, or a frightened little dancer using sex as a weapon for self harm. The line between the two is what makes the difference between Bradley and I. I won’t allow you to insult me in this way.”

“I don’t understand,” Yuuri said desperately. “I don’t know what the difference is. That’s the problem! I can’t see this line you’re talking about. I know it’s there but I can’t wrap my head around it and it’s killing me!”

They lapsed into silence for several long seconds. Yuuri was breathing hard. The rolling pulse in his ear drums pounded so loudly, it was almost deafening. 

“What scares you about it? What makes the thought of me abusing you seem so attractive?”

“It’s not— that’s not what I want. I’m not doing this because I _ enjoy _ it!”

“You’ve never enjoyed it because it was always something outside of your control. I seem to remember you saying you only felt comfortable when you were being touched on your own terms. This would give you leave to dictate those exact terms.”

Yuuri scoffed loudly, looking away. “What, I say you can only touch me if I’m tied to the headboard? That’s ridiculous.” 

“It might sound ridiculous, but it’s exactly within the boundaries you’re more than welcome to set,” Victor said smoothly. 

“But that’s crazy! Who would _ ever _go along with something like that?” Yuuri said. “Why would that ever be something that anyone enjoys?”

“Yuuri, are you scared?” Victor asked, cocking his head. 

Yuuri recoiled like he’d been slapped. “Of course not!”

“I hate liars,” Victor said breezily. He looked down his nose, unimpressed. “So please don’t pretend I can’t see the fear written all over your face right now. What is it that scares you most about all this? Clearly it isn’t the thought of me touching you.”

In the quiet that followed, Yuuri seethed with an impotent kind of rage that boiled him from the inside out. He wasn’t scared. He knew that, he did, but if that was true… why, then, was his heart racing so fast? Yuuri took a step back. 

He wasn’t backing down, just re-evaluating. 

“I beg and scream to let me go, you’ll ignore me. I say ‘crane’ and you let me go? It feels… backwards,” Yuuri said in a small voice. 

“It’s putting control in your hands. A safety net should you need it. I’ll take and take, my sweet, I’ll break you to your core and leave you ruined, but only if that is what you want. Your life is the only thing that is mine to do with as I please. Your consent, your body, your desires are yours. And that is what I wish for you to understand.”

Yuuri let out a small huff. He couldn’t look Victor in the eye, not yet. Not until the racing of his heart slowed by degrees, and the wildly roaring panic fell quiet once more. He took a few deep breaths. 

“My plan stays the same,” Yuuri said at last. Every word felt like pouring a little more of his soul out, laying it open and bare for all to see. “I want you to touch me. I don’t care if I scream or beg or cry. I want to overwrite everything Bradley has done. You can call it BDSM or exposure therapy or whatever you want. I just want to make this all go away. I want to dance without this hanging over my head.”

Victor smiled. It was, of course, that simple. How was it always so simple with Victor? 

“Then I’ll be more than happy to give it to you. Strip, then, and lay on the bed. You can keep your underwear and socks if you so desire, but remove everything else.” Yuuri exhaled sharply. His eyes fluttered, and he nodded. 

“Okay, alright. Doing this now.”

Yuuri shucked his shirt, wrestling for a minute to get his head out of the neck hole. He dropped the sleep pants and stood in nothing but his underwear and socks. Staring Victor in the eye, he moved to lay on his stomach on the bed.

“Stay there while I get the ropes. Don’t move.”

Yuuri took slow, steady breaths as Victor left the room, the door standing wide open in cruel temptation. As though Yuuri would want to leave, of course. Was there a game to the open door, or was Yuuri simply overthinking it? He reached for a smooth handful of sheets, clutching them tight and taking another deep breath. 

Victor returned, closing the door behind him with an odd sense of finality. “Good, Yuuri. Stay still. I have to touch your wrists.”

Yuuri winced as Victor collected his right hand from the sheets. Teeth clenched right, body wound tight like a coiled spring about to snap, he held himself carefully silent and in check as the other wrist was lifted into the air beside the first. Soft rope looped around each wrist, and Victor’s hands disappeared from Yuuri’s skin. 

Loops of a bright, saturated blue rope pinned his wrists together, and Victor made short work of securing the bonds to the headboard. “Good. Try to pull them.”

Yuuri yanked and pulled on the ropes with all his strength, but he was secure. “It’s solid,” Yuuri said. His voice was rough. He was shaking. 

“Perfect. Now for your ankles.”

The matter-of-fact tone cut through Yuuri’s skin, straight to his core, but underneath, Yuuri could hear a whisper of excitement. His chest grew light with anticipation as Victor walked slowly toward the foot of the bed. It stole his breathe away. 

A small gasp slipped out of him as his socked foot was gently picked up. The soft rope slipped around his left ankle, followed by a rhythmic pulling of the knot being secured. He was pulled by the end of the rope so that his legs were spread apart, until he was at his limit and stretched out as far as he’d go. There were a few more tugs, and Yuuri’s left foot was solidly tied to one side of the footboard.

The action was repeated for the other foot, so that Yuuri’s legs were spread wide and his wrists were secure in the center. He tried to wriggle, but he was pulled tight, unable to move in either direction no matter how he squirmed. He was breathing harder now. Yuuri rocked his head back, at last spotting Victor standing at the end of the bed, studying Yuuri.

Yuuri huffed. “Is that all you’ve got, old man?” 

Victor let out a shallow bark of laughter. “I like seeing you have some bite. There’s no shame in backing out, my sweetling,” Victor said, and it made Yuuri hiss. No shame, Yuuri’s ass. This was only going to end one way. 

Every muscle in Yuuri’s body tensed as Victor walked up beside him. He could almost feel Victor’s hands hovering above his skin, as though the air itself was shivering in anticipation. Yuuri held his breath. He screwed his eyes shut, and every part of him curled in, as much as the ties would allow. 

But they held fast, keeping Yuuri spread open on the bedsheets as Victor at last laid the flat of his palm on Yuuri’s upper back. The world flashed bright as lightning. Yuuri spasmed like he’d been shocked, letting out a scream and trying to jerk away. 

He was caught up, strung too tightly to flinch away. The warmth of Victor’s hand continued to bear down on him, not pushing, but with a steady pressure that made it impossible to forget it was there. Yuuri forced himself to take shallow, harsh breaths. His eyes rolled in his skull as he tried to marshal his sanity. 

This was all it took to make him come undone? Nonsense. Yuuri was not so weak as this. He gritted his teeth. Hands curled into fists, he let the harsh of his breath steady out into slower pants, until he was almost breathing normally again. 

Victor lifted his hand, and Yuuri felt his heart begin to slow again. He went limp in the sheets, exhausted already. But it was not finished so quickly, and Yuuri was quietly relieved that it was not. He saw Victor move from the corner of his eyes.

Fingertips brushed down the backs of his arms. Yuuri seized again, fighting back whimpers as Victor pressed down harder, as though the pads of his fingers left scorching trails in their wake. The low keening rose in pitch, louder, louder, despite Yuuri’s best efforts to hold his tongue. 

“You’re gorgeous when you’re holding back,” Victor said, leaning in close. His warm breath curled around Yuuri’s ear. “But I think you should _ let go._”

_ Let it go, Yuuri, I don’t want to talk about it. _

Victor’s fingertips dragged almost harshly down Yuuri’s shoulder blades, eliciting a scream. Yuuri’s head flew back and he saw nothing, nothing, only darkness and pain and Bradley’s hands on his neck. 

Victor’s fingers pressed firmly into Yuuri’s spine, following every bump of the backbone before splaying out over his lower back, giving Yuuri’s skin a generous squeeze. Yuuri cried out louder now, jerking in his bonds. 

“Do you want me to stop?” Victor crooned. He rolled the meat of Yuuri’s hips between his fingers, weighing his palms on the smooth skin just above the edge of Yuuri’s underwear. Yuuri bit back another hiss of displeasure. 

“Absolutely not,” Yuuri gasped, eyes fluttering wildly. “Keep going.” 

Victor smiled. “With pleasure.” And Victor trailed his nails up Yuuri’s back, so light that it almost tickled. Yuuri let out an unholy wail. His eyes burned with unshed tears, but he held them back, too fiercely stubborn to let Victor see them. 

_ Your fault, Yuuri, why do you make me do these things- _

_ I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Yuuri, let’s just forget about what happened, okay? _

_ We can pretend it never happened- _

Pretend it never happened, pretend it was fine, pretend everything was okay. A shattered sob ripped out of Yuuri’s chest. Hands slipped down Yuuri’s hips, settling on his waist, half on the thin fabric of Yuuri’s underwear and half on the naked skin of Yuuri’s thighs.

The touches were curious, exploratory, but with a single-minded purpose to roam wherever they desired. It didn’t stop. Yuuri fought against the ropes, trying to get free. Panic rose like bile in the back of his throat. He screamed, raw and feral. It wasn’t enough.

He screamed, louder, louder still. It was too much, until he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see. Tears spilled down his cheeks. “Please,” he begged. “Please!” The warmth of those hands slipped up his sides, kneading into the muscles of the upper back. 

His spine arched. His feet kicked against the restraints and he sobbed, openly and broken over the pillows. 

“Please what?” A low voice murmured, right in Yuuri’s ear. It was desperately familiar, and yet his mind was lost to the panic. It meant nothing to him. Yuuri screamed again, louder and louder until his voice broke. Something inside him crumbled like broken glass. 

He croaked out empty sobs into the sheets. It was an ugly sort of crying, useless, broken, desperate. His body went limp, barely convulsing from the sobs. There was only the occasional weak jerk of his body from some new sob that broke free. “Crane,” Yuuri sobbed. “Please, crane, crane.”

Tears spilled endlessly down his cheeks as the hands slowly lifted from his body. The warmth settled in the pit of his spine. The next touch was to his ankles, then to his wrists. He drew his body into a fetal pose and cried.

Victor pushed the hair back from his face, and he left a single kiss to Yuuri’s temple. Yuuri didn’t move. His eyes closed and he allowed himself to be turned onto his side, a blanket pulled over him. The tears slowed, and as they dried on his cheeks, a curious sense of calm fell over him.

Calm, but strangely enough, also the kind of euphoria that only came from hard exercise. It settled in his bones with a heavy weight like stone. The world hazed in and out of existence, fuzzier than it should have been. 

“You did well,” Victor said warmly. His voice seemed a thousand miles away, for all that Yuuri could hear or respond. The words blurred together like a phantasmal dream. “So, so well.” 

In seconds, Yuuri was asleep. 

It was already evening when he woke up again. He laid boneless in bed, not wanting to move. He barely cracked his eyes open, but the room was empty. 

His muscles ached, worse than the times he spent dancing more than was safe or sane. He laid in a daze for a while, unsure about the passage of time. 

When Victor stepped into the room, Yuuri let out a soft hum. Victor was crouched by his side in an instant, hands fluttering inches away. “How do you feel?” He was studying Yuuri, expression between open curiosity and something Yuuri was mistaking for concern. 

Yuuri hummed again, offering a small shrug. He was so exhausted, he couldn’t bring himself to move more than that. “Tired. Why am I so tired?”

“Emotional exhaustion is just as real as physical exhaustion,” Victor said, looking amused. He crossed his arms on the edge of the bed, peering at Yuuri’s face. Yuuri scrunched his nose and hugged the pillow. 

“You stopped…”

“You asked me to.”

Yuuri squinted at Victor. “You stopped this time. What if you don’t next time?”

“That’s the element of trust we build together,” Victor said with a shrug. 

“Learning to trust is hard. Harder than learning to let people touch me,” Yuuri said with narrow eyes, still deeply suspicious. “And yet it’s easier with you. Why is that? What did you to to me?”

“All I did was treat you with respect. Because, even when you’re at your most helpless, you should hold all the power. Anyone who takes that power away deserves death. Which is why I think so little of your ex.”

“Respect,” Yuuri scoffed, thinking of the long weeks he’d spend naked and locked in a studio. How long ago, that felt. And he’d willingly walked back into this. Did he have regrets? His stomach dropped. 

“Would you like a bath?” Victor asked. “Or I can fix dinner?”

Yuuri’s stomach gave an audible growl. “Food would be good.” He stood, his legs jello-y but his mind curiously calm. “I feel strange.”

“You look relaxed,” Victor said. “At least, less tightly wound up. Some people find crying cathartic.”

Yuuri hummed again, finding some clothes to pull on before following Victor down the stairs. He drifted along, more like a balloon on a string than a person. He dozed as Victor cooked, and he followed Victor to the movie room. Yuuri didn’t pay attention to the screen. 

He picked at the food. Warmth curled in his stomach, and he closed his eyes, dozing again. More warmth settled on him, this time with a featherlight pressure on his hand. “Is this okay?” Victor asked. 

Yuuri hummed. Victor’s thumb rubbed small circles into the back of his hand. There was no screaming, no panic. There was only an overwhelming quiet. Hands felt so tame compared to the rest. 

But even as he laid there, his mind could not silence the thoughts lurking at the edges. There were two issues which Yuuri found himself needing to confront. 

First was his initial discomfort with Victor touching him. What few touches there had been from day one, it seemed that Yuuri’s skittishness had grown. Where before there had only been an initial distaste, now there was raw, primal fear. 

Was it a factor of their (and Yuuri hated to admit this) growing trust? The more he let himself grow comfortable around Victor, the less comfortable he was with the thought of Victor touching him. 

Yuuri could think of only one explanation, little as he liked to consider it. The more he opened his mind to the idea of letting Victor in, the more his instincts recoiled. And for once, Yuuri could see the truth— this was not his fault. It was Bradley’s doing. 

The years he’d spent with Bradley left a scar on him; Victor was right about that. Yuuri would have always been a creature given to his anxieties, regardless of circumstance. But under Bradley, Yuuri became something weaker, pathetic. 

Something that lived in fear of growing close to someone, and dreaded the thought of sowing the seeds of a relationship. Yuuri would rather cut and run than face another romance like he’d had with his ex. 

Which led to issue number two— his growing attraction to Victor. Despite all logic and reasoning, Yuuri could deny it about as much as he could deny the need to breathe and eat. 

A murderer, a monster. And yet, Victor listened where others only heard. In return, Yuuri saw a version of Victor that no one else had ever known. It had a sickening thrill to it. To see and be seen. 

In a castle in the woods, there was a lonely prince. In his search for beauty, he found an ugly duckling. With praise and unrepentant honesty, the duckling’s bruises faded, and he learned to fly. 

Would the duckling one day become dinner? Only time would tell. 

Yuuri didn’t understand why he was so tired. Victor roused him with a soft tug of his wrist. Yuuri stumbled into a bathtub, lost in a dream. “Yuuri,” Victor murmured. “Are you alright?”

Fingers raked through his hair, and Yuuri melted into it. The contact on his scalp sent shivers down his spine. The familiar routine soothed him. 

“Mmm,” Yuuri mumbled. “M’fine.”

“I have to work tomorrow. Will you be okay here?”

“Mmm,” Yuuri said, nodding. Victor cupped water in his hands, rinsing out the soap. The warm water left Yuuri boneless. Steam curled up. A tear slid down his cheek. 

_ Water hotter than blood, the heavy silence of winter as snow fell around the spring. Laughter filled the air, bright and drunk and joyful. The onsen was popular with locals and tourists alike. _

_ Yuuri looked past the steam to where his father was sweeping snow off the path. His dad smiled at him. _

The memories came, unbidden. “My family used to own a hot spring,” Yuuri said in a quiet voice. “It was so nice to soak in the hot water and let your pains and troubles melt away.”

“It sounds like a dream,” Victor murmured. 

Yuuri hummed. “Sometimes it feels like one… Your tub could never compare. Nothing ever would, though. And now it’s gone…” Yuuri said. 

Victor measured conditioner in his hand, and he started to massage it into Yuuri’s scalp. “Do you miss it?” Victor asked. 

Yuuri couldn’t hold back the soft, muffled sob. He wiped his eyes away quickly. At last, he nodded, biting his tongue. “Every day. Every goddamn day. I just… I wish I could have told them I loved them… one last time. Ugh, why am I like this?” Yuuri groaned, wiping away the tears that continued to spill. 

Victor gently washed Yuuri’s hair clean once more, and started the water draining. “The emotional upheaval of what we did, it won’t go away immediately. It exhausts your body and your mind.”

“That’s weird…” Yuuri slurred. “Why do you have to go tomorrow?”

“I have work, silly,” Victor said. He passed Yuuri a towel, smiling as Yuuri absently patted down his limbs. “Would you rather I stay?”

“No,” Yuuri said, before pausing. He frowned. “Maybe.”

Victor’s indulgent smile widened. “My wicked Yuuri, you know I can’t deny you anything. If you want me to stay, just say the word.”

“Go to work,” Yuuri muttered. “I’ll be fine.” He staggered clumsily to the bed. His eyes closed, and he was asleep once more very soon after. 

His body took time to recover from what happened. It was early afternoon when Yuuri woke up again. The door to the bedroom was standing open. Yuuri squinted and stumbled to his feet. He walked down the silent hallway. The only sounds in the entire house were his own footfalls and breath. 

Yuuri wrapped his arms around himself, trying to stop from shaking. He took the stairs down to the main level, finding the kitchen open and empty. He picked his way over to the fridge and opened it.

It was well-stocked with a variety of fresh produce and meats. Yuuri closed it and turned to the counters. A very fancy coffee machine was sitting on the counter. Yuuri eyed it carefully, trying to remember watching Victor operate it. The buttons were labeled with sleek graphics, and Yuuri poked around to see it was still filled with coffee beans. 

Yuuri dug through the cabinets and found a mug, which he deposited under the spigot. Then, he found the buttons to produce some foamy concoction. From the froth at the top, Yuuri assumed it was either a latte or a cappuccino. It would be good enough. 

Beside the coffee machine, there were several flavor pumps. It was like an entire coffeeshop in Victor’s kitchen, and Yuuri had a fondness for the hazelnut syrup. He added a few pumps to his mug and gave it a little stir, until he was satisfied with the taste. 

Yuuri sipped his coffee, feeling the oddest sense of freedom and, strangely, fear. He could do anything he wanted, and it scared him. He could walk out the door and into the path of an oncoming car. He could explore the insides of Victor’s home, find all the secrets and hidden rooms. 

He could even return to the bedroom, and seal himself inside the studio to dance until Victor returned. The possibilities were truly limitless. Yuuri settled for making himself a piece of toast to go with his coffee, and he sat at a barstool beside the counter, nibbling his toast and finishing up his mug. 

It helped him feel a little more alive than before. The caffeine did his body a lot of good, and Yuuri started to finally feel less foggy than he did the previous night. 

He couldn’t run from the facts any longer. His growing attachment to Victor was as plain as day. His lingering trauma wouldn’t last forever, if Yuuri had any say in the matter. This meant that a day would eventually come where Victor would no longer have a broken doll to enjoy. 

Yuuri couldn’t help the wave of jealousy that rushed through him. The thought of someone else having Victor’s attention filled him with such intense loathing. It was a dark, almost scary train of thought, and Yuuri was quick to reign it in. 

Victor came home with Yuuri nursing the last dregs of his second cup, so lost in thought he didn’t hear Victor come in. 

“Good morning, my sweet Yuuri,” Victor crooned, sweeping into the kitchen and blowing a kiss to Yuuri from across the room. “Glad to see you up and moving around. How much of my coffee did you drink?”

“Just two cups,” Yuuri said, suspicious. “Why?”

“Because it feels good to spoil you, however indirectly,” Victor said smugly. “Was it good?”

Yuuri squinted at his mug, then at the coffee machine, then back at Victor. “What did you do?”

“I purchased a new flavor of coffee bean recently. Finca el injerto. At $500 per pound, it is definitely an expense I’m happy to see you indulge in.”

Yuuri would have spat his coffee if there’d been any to drink. “Five _ hundred_? That’s ridiculous- And I made it into a _ cappuccino- _”

“Oh, by the way, I was going to give this back to you,” Victor said, turning away. The impish gleam was back in his eyes, childlike and thrumming with excitement. 

Yuuri stood up. “Wait, what do you mean, give back? What did you take?”

Victor slid something made of glass and metal across the counter, coming to a stop right in front of Yuuri. A cell phone.

“This isn’t mine,” Yuuri said, confused. “Mine is definitely way older than this. This thing looks brand new.”

“Isn’t it your phone?” Victor asked, all mock innocence. “Unlock it, it should have everything right where it belongs. Password is 123456, but you can change it to whatever you want. You really should have had a password enabled on it from the day you bought it.”

“Bradley wanted to be able to get in,” Yuuri muttered, typing the password in. He was unnerved already. The lock screen was exactly the same as it was on his old phone: a picture of his old poodle Vicchan lolling his tongue out for the camera. 

Yuuri tapped around his contacts and found they were right as they were before. All his pictures, all his music, all the same apps. Just a new phone. 

Yuuri set the password to his birthday with a frown, looking back up at Victor, who seemingly didn’t even care that Yuuri immediately set a password. “Does this thing… still work?”

“Yuuri, why would I give you a phone that isn’t connected to a phone plan? Unlimited talk, text, and data, but I connected it to my WiFi as well. All I ask is that you please don’t reveal to the world my… hobbies.”

Yuuri let out a startled bark of laughter. “This is ridiculous.” He toyed with the phone. The thought of it actually ringing made him more nervous than excited. “Why? What if I don’t want it?”

“Your absence from the world at large for so long…. it could potentially prove to be a problem, and I would like to head it off. The officers showed me that, with their alarm at seeing you. You need to be reachable to the outside world, no matter how little you may want to be.”

“And if the police call, asking why I’m not kidnapped like they all thought I was?”

“You tell them whatever you like, and I’ll back you up,” Victor said. 

Yuuri nodded, staring at the phone. He spun it round and round on the table. “I told them this was a retreat. Like one of those things rich people do to get away from everything and forget their problems? Sometimes it feels like that, I guess. I mean, $500 coffee beans?” Yuuri asked, eyeing the coffee machine more warily now. 

“I will not apologize for good coffee,” Victor said. “That sounds like a solid story. I assume you mentioned your dancing to them? We have been working quite a bit, it’ll be obvious that you’ve grown since the time you disappeared.”

“Yeah, I mentioned that, too,” Yuuri said. He couldn’t stop fidgeting. “I feel like I’m just as complicit in your crimes, knowing what you’ve done and covering up for it like this.”

Victor quirked his lips. “Guilty conscience? Don’t worry, you’re innocent on all counts, as far as I’m concerned. May I touch your hand?”

Yuuri stiffened, then slowly slid his palm across the counter. Victor took it delicately in hand. It only trembled a little this time, as opposed to the immediate visceral reaction of last time. A pleased smile spread over Victor’s face. 

“Perhaps we can work again on this soon?”

Yuuri nodded. “Yeah, that would be good. Can we dance today?” He looked Victor in the eyes, and Victor agreed easily, depositing a swift brush of his lips against Yuuri’s knuckles. Yuuri took pride in not letting out a shallow yelp. 

“Let’s get changed and get started, then, shall we?” Victor said. 

Yuuri took his pocket knife and his new phone with him upstairs, weighing them in his palm as he went. 

* * *

**June 21, 2019**

Yuuri knew the post-exposure-therapy peace wouldn’t last forever. Early in the morning, he got a phone call from a number he didn’t recognize. It was from somewhere in the city, so Yuuri rolled over in bed and answered it, voice soft and sleepy. 

“Hello?”

“Good morning, is this Yuuri Katsuki speaking?” The voice was firm and straight to the point, strong but feminine. Yuuri muttered a confused agreement. “Excellent. I was wondering if you’d be available to come by at some point today or Monday for us to talk?”

“Talk about what, who is this?” Yuuri said, sitting up. He rubbed his eyes. 

“I’m sorry, let me introduce myself. My name is Isabella Yang, and I’m the lead investigator on the missing persons task force with the police department. We’ve been digging into your case and we have a few questions we’d like to ask in person, if it isn’t too much trouble.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor has a few surprises for Yuuri, but Yuuri has a few of his own...

**June 21, 2019**

Victor’s foresight was a regrettable thing. Yuuri wondered briefly if Victor was psychic, or simply that good at predicting what would happen, even with something as simple as a police investigation. 

Maybe it was how Victor had stayed out of prison for so long. If he was aware of what they would do and think, it would be much easier to avoid being caught in the act. 

Yuuri sat on the bed, fidgeting and trying to distract himself with games for part of the morning, but it didn’t help much. He was too worried about what Detective Isabella Yang would find if she dug, what would happen to the future, and to all of Yuuri’s plans. He slipped out to the studio, working up a sweat on some of his more simple routines. 

He crept down to the kitchen for lunch, and he stress-ate a few too many of the cookies Victor had laying on the counter. He just couldn’t stay still. Every muscle in his body was shaking with a nervous energy he hadn’t had since before their exposure therapy ‘session’. Any trace of the calm he had felt was long gone. 

He poked around the house until Victor came home, looking inside rooms but not bothering to dig much deeper. It satiated a small part of his curiosity, at the very least, though it did little for his rampant anxiety. 

There were multiple floors in the house with several rooms to each floor. A gym was set up in what might have once been one of a handful of spare bedrooms, and Yuuri considered coming back to it later for some of the shiny, well-maintained equipment stores inside.

He returned back to the bedroom, waiting for Victor to come home. It weighed on the tip of his tongue all through dinner, unspoken and crushing conversation into stilted silence. 

“Victor…” Yuuri muttered at last. He set his plate aside. 

“Something wrong?” Victor cocked his head, placing his fork onto his plate. He turned to face Yuuri fully. He gave his undivided attention so easily. It was almost unsettling, the level of attention Victor gave Yuuri. It was almost… flattering. 

“I got a call this morning… A detective wants to talk to me about… Bradley, and the time I was considered ‘missing’, sometime today or on Monday.”

Victor smiled. “Alright, I can drive you up on Monday.”

“You’re not worried?” Yuuri said. 

Victor blinked. “Worried? Should I be? As long as you’re not planning something rash I shouldn’t have too much cause for concern, right?”

“But… what if she sees through my story? Aren’t you worried I’ll mess up, and someone will figure out what you are?”

“Yuuri, the only way someone would figure out the truth is if you outright told them, and even if you did, I have taken certain steps to ensure my own safety. Prison doesn’t appeal to me, believe it or not, and I’ve taken steps long ago to keep myself out of trouble. Plus, you wouldn’t tell on me, would you?” Victor added with big puppy eyes. 

Yuuri sighed. “You’re more confident than I am. I feel like there’s something wrong with that, but alright.”

“And think of it this way, Yuuri. Maybe you’ll be able to finally give that piece of trash what he deserves— a jail cell of his own. I think prison orange would definitely be his color.”

Yuuri couldn’t help the startled laugh that fell from his lips. He covered his mouth and settled down, but the smile was still there despite his best efforts.

Victor looked entirely too pleased with himself. “I don’t think I’ve heard you laugh before. I like it.” 

Yuuri went red to the tips of his ears. “O-oh. Well. I just… thought it was funny. Anyway! If you’re sure, does that mean we’ll have to go into the city?”

Victor nodded. “I’ll take the day off work. We can grab lunch too! Wouldn’t that be fun?”

Yuuri felt his stomach roil in protest, but he steeled his nerves. “Yeah, fun. Can’t wait,” Yuuri said with false cheer. 

Victor hummed happily. 

Yuuri’s nerves were fraying hard and fast, and he clutched the ragged ends before he could lose them. “Let’s go dance,” he said quickly, rising to his feet and tugging Victor’s wrist. 

“What do you say we work on La Sylphide again?” Victor asked as they headed up the stairs.”I want to see you get the part of the titular character down.”

Yuuri nodded and they headed upstairs. In short order, they settled in to work in the studio. Sweat beaded on Yuuri’s face as he labored, diligently following Victor’s instructions. 

In the weeks and months since he’d started dancing again in earnest, the steps had become easier. The pressure to succeed was still there, but it was tempered somewhat. There was something easier about dancing in Victor’s studio that a borrowed studio could never give. 

It drug Yuuri’s mind back to his youth, when he would dance in Minako’s studio until he was so tired he could barely muster the energy to walk home. Victor didn’t touch him, just verbally adjusted where necessary.

“It’s still not right,” Victor mused. Yuuri stepped back, grimacing. The jump had felt off to him, too, but it wasn’t getting better. All the times he’d attempted it since first working through the choreography, and the jump was just… not where it should be. It was unsatisfying.

In a pas de deux, there was a balance that needed to be struck, a give and take between the partners. Doing it solo, it gave the part more weight, threw it off kilter. The perfect fouettes required were massively taxing, despite Yuuri’s endless practice, and something about the dance was off, no matter what Victor recommended. 

They took a break before Yuuri could become snappish, retiring back to the kitchen for glasses of lemonade. Yuuri kicked his heels against a barstool, thinking.

Victor was watching him, saying nothing of the thoughts lurking behind his mind. That was just fine with Yuuri. He looked down at his wrists, playing with the reddened skin where the silky soft ropes had rubbed them raw.

Even with the softest ropes, the skin could still be damaged if Yuuri resisted it too hard. He’d tried to relax, but none of it was enough. And yet, unlike the fading purple bruise on Yuuri’s face, the marks on his wrists felt different somehow. 

They weren’t a mark of weakness, the same way. They weren’t a sign of losing control. They were power. They were Yuuri’s struggle to reclaim himself and his freedom and his own sanity. They were—

_ A sign of Victor’s touch instead of Bradley, _ a little voice whispered. Yuuri swallowed it back. He cast a brief, nervous glance at Victor. Luckily enough, Victor was refilling his glass from the pitcher of lemonade, and didn’t notice Yuuri’s shifting expression. 

That was the idea, wasn’t it? Wash away everything of Bradley’s. But Yuuri hadn’t fully considered what it would mean to let Victor take such an intimate, hands-on approach. He hadn’t considered the marks Victor would leave as he erased each of Bradley’s. But… there was no fear there. 

Victor’s marks were not the marks of needless suffering. Every ache in Yuuri’s muscles, every blister on his feet, every chafe of rope on his body served a higher purpose. The pain had a higher calling, and there was a satisfaction that came from it that was unparalleled. 

Shivers raced up his spine. Monday would change everything, wouldn’t it?

* * *

**June 24, 2019**

They dressed in near silence. Victor buttoned his shirt up one hole at a time, watching his little dancer from the corner of his eye. Yuuri’s face was shadowed in traces of doubt.

What a positively divine creature. Even when his anxieties consumed him, he was beautiful, and perhaps it made him more stunning for it. Victor wanted to consume him whole, all his fears and adoration. He wanted to possess Yuuri in his entirety. 

But there was a tradeoff, a delicate dance that needed to be done. Possession was nice enough when it was simply taken, but to earn it of Yuuri’s own free will had its own appeals. To be given the trust Yuuri held so close to his chest, to repair the shattered pieces of what Chadley had so thoroughly destroyed. 

Today would be a test, an exercise, and a flex all in one. Victor smiled to himself. What in life was ever easy, which was also worth having? 

The new clothes Yuuri put on looked divine on him- the dark blue of the button-up offset his skin beautifully, and the rolled sleeves kept the look cool enough to survive the summer heat. Yuuri brushed his hair back from his face with a touch of gel, and it made the whole look simply stunning. 

Yuuri spent most of his days in Victor’s home dressed in soft leggings and overlarge shirts. While this was very nice to look at, seeing Yuuri dressed up like this gave him an almost ethereal beauty, untouchable and powerful and strong. The soft fear in his eyes mixed with the firm determination in the set of his shoulders. 

They stopped for lunch at a lovely little cafe near the precinct office. Victor watched fondly as Yuuri took frantic, shallow breaths. Would a touch be accepted or rejected? Yuuri kept things so unpredictable, it was always hard to tell. 

Victor reached across the table and brushed his fingers over the back of Yuuri’s hand. Yuuri jumped, and it startled him enough to make those lovely eyes go round in surprise. Not a bad sign, no recoiling. Victor pressed it a little more. He laced their fingers together, smoothing his thumb over the soft skin.

Yuuri let out a shallow breath. He squeezed Victor’s hand. “It’ll be okay,” Yuuri said, seemingly to himself. 

“It _ will _ be okay,” Victor agreed. “Just remember the growth you’ve made already.” He glanced pointedly at their joined hands, and Yuuri nodded, scarcely seeming to hear Victor. “They don’t care what you’ve been doing. They just want to know how Chadley fits into the picture. If I had to guess, they’re pursuing criminal charges against him and simply need to know if this has been an ongoing pattern with him.”

Yuuri visibly shuddered. “So he’ll go away. I won’t have to see him ever again.”

“Does that upset you?” Victor asked. So many thoughts raced over Yuuri’s face, but upset wasn’t one of them, not by a longshot. 

Yuuri’s eyes sparkled as they leveled on Victor. “Absolutely not. He’s getting what he deserves.” Oh, how Victor delighted in hearing those words with such venom. The fire in Yuuri’s words kindled desire in Victor’s heart. 

Victor grinned at Yuuri. Their waiter came around, and Victor placed his order smoothly, turning to Yuuri. He blinked at the menu for a few seconds before hurrying to order himself a sandwich. Yuuri took a few deep breaths. 

He was scattered. He needed to relax if he wanted to pull this off… Victor smoothed his thumb over the back of Yuuri’s hand, watching the set of his shoulders tighten more and more. 

“If you don’t want to do this, we can leave-” Victor began, and Yuuri whipped his head up, eyes wide. 

“No! I have to,” Yuuri said. His voice rose, firmer and more sure with each word. “I have to confront this issue. This might be what gets him out of my life and not ruining anyone else’s, either. He needs to suffer for what he’s done! And I won’t sit idle and let him do whatever he wants anymore. I won’t let myself be scared of him, or fall for his lies anymore. I don’t care if you don’t understand, please, just stay beside me while I do this!” 

He was pleading, eyes beautiful and sparkling and wide, imploring Victor to stay close. Victor took Yuuri’s other hand, holding both cradled in his palms. Yuuri was trembling with determination. Victor gave him a smile, and that was all it took. 

“I am here, and I’m not leaving,” Victor said. _ You’re mine_. “No matter what, I’m here. We’ve both learned, haven’t we? Ours is a dance we’ve developed over time and experience. Learning what works and what doesn’t. We’re still learning. It isn’t ending today.”

Yuuri swallowed back his shuddering gasps. After a moment, he nodded, squeezing Victor’s hands tight in his own. 

Victor couldn’t help but grin in victory. He had feared he’d pushed Yuuri too far with their first ‘session’, but those fears were ultimately unfounded. Yuuri had performed more beautifully than imagined. Perhaps it had put things in perspective, in a sense, recalibrating Yuuri’s limits. Victor couldn’t know for sure, but if it meant he could hold Yuuri’s hands, it was a step in the right direction. 

Where would things go in the future?

Yuuri was delighted when he bit into the sandwich. Victor adored watching him eat, his cheeks puffing like a little hamster. When they finished, Victor left the waiter a generous tip and swept Yuuri into a brisk walk down the street. 

Yuuri had a new set to his shoulders and determination in his eyes as he marched beside Victor. Inside, they were greeted by a striking woman with dark hair and a wide smile, dressed in a sharp-looking pantsuit. She introduced herself as Isabella Yang and offered to bring Yuuri deeper inside. 

“I’ll wait out here,” Victor called. “Let me know if you need anything!”

Yuuri flashed him a small smile, breaking through the determination for a brief second. He nodded and followed her to the back, so Victor took a seat in one of the stiff-backed chairs in the lobby. 

As he waited, a man with a broad smile approached Victor. “Hi, I saw you come in with Mr. Katsuki. I’m Phichit Chulanont.”

“Victor Nikiforov, a pleasure,” Victor said, offering a winsome smile. “Something the matter?”

“No, no, nothing wrong,” Phichit said. He grabbed a chair, turning it around to sit in it backwards. “You know of Yuuri’s situation, I’m guessing?”

“We’ve become very close over the last few months,” Victor said. “He’s confided in me his… situation, so to speak,” Victor agreed. 

“I work in the domestics department. I’ve been looking at Bradley Chadeau’s case. I’ll be going back to talk to Yuuri in a bit, but I was wondering… What, if anything, has he mentioned to you about Bradley? I’m building a case for prosecutors and I’m looking for more information.”

“Yuuri doesn’t discuss it much,” Victor said. “Getting him to talk about his time with Chadley is like pulling teeth. It’s a very obviously painful memory for him, and it’s left his scars. We’re trying to work through some of it together, but it’s slow going.”

Phichit nodded. “I see…” He noted a few quick notes in a little notebook, and Victor waited for him to finish to continue. 

“One thing I’m sure of, it’s absolutely been a pattern over a long time,” Victor said. His voice became cold. “He raped and abused Yuuri, and engaged in emotional manipulation to keep Yuuri close to him despite it all. He deserves death, for what he did, but I will settle for prison.”

“You seem committed to Yuuri’s recovery. He needs someone to stay in his corner. Often, victims have nowhere to turn, especially when they’ve been living with their abuser. The fact that you’re there for him is very generous,” Phichit said with a smile. 

Victor let out a sigh. “My mother was abused by my father, and it’s something that’s stuck with me all my life. Yuuri is… simply stunning when he feels strong, at ease with himself and his choices. When he speaks of Chadley, all that weakness comes back, and he knows it. He hates it. I want to see him strong, and I think he will feel best if we never see that man ever again.”

Phichit’s smile was warm. “Thank you, Victor. You give me a lot of hope for Yuuri’s recovery from all this. It’s traumatizing for anyone to deal with. Did he ever reference any specific instances with you? Things I could look up and corroborate?”

Victor shook his head. “Nothing concrete like that. I don’t press him for details. I wish you luck in your search.”

“And good luck to you and Yuuri. Take care of him!” 

“I will,” Victor said solemnly, and with that, Phichit stood. A few minutes passed, and the woman from before walked up to him. Victor smiled goodnaturedly. “Are you helping with the Bradley case, too?”

“I’m not,” she said. “I deal with the missing person’s department. I had a few questions for you while Phichit is talking to Yuuri.”

Victor fought a little grimace, turning it into a smile. Now of all times, they’d come sniffing. This was only to be expected. “Of course, what can I help you with, Detective Yang?”

“Yuuri was missing for months before he turned up at 3 AM in his estranged partner’s apartment. All he told us about the time he was gone is that he was with _ you_. Phichit seems well taken in with you, and that’s fine. But for my part, I’m suspicious as hell. I hope you understand.”

“I do,” Victor said graciously. “It was at Yuuri’s behest. He wished to avoid all traces of society at large, which meant secluding himself in my home until such time as he felt more secure in himself. I admit, he’s a bit rash, but even I was surprised when he left in the middle of the night.”

“I accept that he could very well be impulsive, but the question remains, Mr. Nikiforov, something I’m very interested in, is why you decided to keep it something secret from us.” Her gaze was narrow, hyper focused as she spoke. “That’s impeding an investigation and obstruction of justice, something that is a federal offense. 

“I don’t want to pursue charges against you if I don’t have to, Mr. Nikiforov. So please, on the record, why did you conceal Mr. Katsuki from us for so long?”

The gears were turning in her mind, Victor could see that much plainly. But the fact that Yuuri was turning to him for support must have thrown her theories for a loop. Victor smiled. “Like I said, it was at his behest. Everything I did, I did for Yuuri’s mental, physical, and emotional well-being. If you think I’m keeping him as some kind of prisoner, why would I drive him up here? Why would he have the means to leave at his own will? Yuuri is no more trapped with me than he is trapped here. So now, with that said, will I need a lawyer, Ms Yang? Or have I sufficiently answered you?”

She stared at him for a long moment, before nodding. “We’ll be in contact, Mr. Nikiforov.” Victor offered her a fake parting smile, damning it all to hell all the while.

He’d counted on the overtaxed police department to simply take an easy excuse and run, leaving it all at the wayside. But there was an almost maternal care in Ms Yang’s pursuit of justice, and Victor could at least give credit where it was due. 

Yuuri was clenching his fist, trembling slightly as he walked out. “Yuuri, are you alright?” Victor called. Yuuri didn’t say anything. 

He marched up to Victor, grabbed his hand, and pulled him out. Victor followed along easily enough, looking back at the way he came. 

“Yuuri, you have to talk to me, what’s gotten into you?”

“The most he’ll ever get is four years,” Yuuri hissed. “Four years for ruining my life over the last five. Four years for all the suffering, the pain, everything!” Yuuri’s voice cracked. His shoulders hitched with sobs. “And that’s the maximum. If he finds a lenient judge, it would be less. How is this fair?” Yuuri yelled. 

Victor was silent.

Yuuri’s shoulders jerked with another raw sob. “It’s just not fair, Victor. How am I supposed to believe he’ll get his dues if he won’t even be guaranteed a prison sentence? What if he just gets community service or something stupid like that?”

“He’ll get his,” Victor vowed. 

“Even if he does, who’s to say he doesn’t retaliate when he’s out? He’s not stupid, Victor. He knows I’m trying to get him locked up. And when he gets out…”

“Say the word, Yuuri, and he won’t live another day,” Victor said simply. “Then he can never touch you again.”

Yuuri huffed. “Murder is not a solution and I can’t believe you would even suggest it while we’re sitting in the parking lot outside a police station.”

He shrugged. It would solve all of Yuuri’s problems. Such a neat, tidy solution was definitely appealing, but defying Yuuri’s wishes was not. Victor hummed, drumming his fingers on the wheel. 

He grabbed his phone from his pocket and hammered out a quick message. The reply came back almost instantly. His smile spread like honey over his lips, instantly pleased. He threw the car into reverse, backing out of the lot and onto the road. 

Yuuri narrowed his eyes. “Wait Victor I thought we were going back home? What are you doing?”

“Something I should have done a long time ago.”

Silence fell over the car. Yuuri blinked. “O-oh.” He sat back in his seat, all the fight leaving him in a rush. He sighed and closed his eyes. 

Victor grinned. “You’re just letting me take you wherever I wish, without fighting me?”

“It would be suspicious if I died immediately after being seen with you,” Yuuri said with a sideways look. Victor laughed. 

“All the same. Thank you for your trust. I hope it’s not unfounded, I sincerely think you’ll enjoy this.”

Yuuri squinted sideways. “Really? What are we doing?”

“You’ll see,” Victor said, staying cryptic in the hopes Yuuri would try and guess. Oh, how he hoped Yuuri liked this. He’d heard one of Yuuri’s laughs before, and if he could draw out even one more, it would be a dream come true. 

They drove in silence for a while. Victor left the city, taking them out to the country beyond. He soon found a small farm house down the road, fenced off with a well-constructed wooden wall. The gate was open, and Victor took care to close it behind him before driving the rest of the way into the farmland. 

Yuuri sat up a little more in his seat, expression mysterious and considering. The way his eyes sparkled when he was thinking! Victor leaned forward, grinning as he parked. He fired off another text. 

_ We’re here _

Yuuri looked around, shuffling his feet on the gravel road. “So what exactly are we doing here?” he asked. His tone was neutral, but Victor could hear the edge of burning curiosity Yuuri couldn’t quite hide. He wore his heart on his sleeve, and Victor thrived on that raw emotion. 

There was a beat. Another. And then yips filled the air, high and clear and distinctly canine. A more rounded _ boof _ echoed behind it. And from the open door of the farmhouse came a herd of tiny brown fluffs, shepherded by a larger, dignified-looking standard poodle. 

Yuuri let out a gasp. He fell to his knees as puppies surrounded him, nipping his heels and kissing his hands. A couple curious pups sniffed at Victor’s ankles, but quickly turned to Yuuri, who was frantically trying to give all of them pets. “Victor- ah! Victor, ahaha, what is going on?” Yuuri laughed, and that beautiful sound filled the air. 

Another herd of puppies flocked out, this one a pile of fluffy huskies, followed at their heels by shepherds and collies. A whole assortment of fluffballs paraded through the large yard, frolicking and playing and rolling in the dirt beside each other. 

Victor smugly watched Yuuri flutter between the groups of puppies, making crooning little noises and trying to draw their attention. “Oh, you’re so precious, look at youuu,” Yuuri murmured, sweetly kissing their little heads and ruffling their ears. “You’re beautiful! Yes you are!”

“That’s all of them,” a man’s voice called. A lean man with dark curls stepped down from the porch. “You know the prices. I’m not repeating them. My pick of each litter has the rainbow collar, and for the rest of them, pink for girls, blue for boys. Names on the tags.” 

“Thank you, Seung Gil,” Victor said. “We’ll take some time to look.”

Yuuri whipped his head up at Victor. “What did you just say?” A puppy tackled his thigh, and Yuuri was forced to look away to contend with the fearsome little beastie that was trying to untuck his shirt. “Victor, you’re- you’re joking-”

“We don’t have to get one today, not if you don’t want to,” Victor said. He squatted down beside a lovely little poodle that was already making itself at home beside Yuuri’s legs. “Oh sweet darling angel,” he cooed, rolling another of the pups onto its back for tummy rubs. 

Yuuri’s expression was priceless. He’d never been so shellshocked before, not in the entire time he’d been with Victor. 

“You don’t have to stare,” Victor said with a crooked grin. “Oh, darling, I can tell you’re surprised, but you have to tell me if this is a good surprise or a bad one.”

Yuuri sucked in a shaky breath, swallowing before speaking in a shaky voice, tears leaking steadily down his cheeks. “You’re serious.”

“I couldn’t help but see your home screen,” Victor said. “You never mentioned having a dog, and you didn’t have one with Chadley, so I thought perhaps it was a childhood pet? If you’d rather have a cat-”

Seung Gil sneered just as Yuuri shook his head. “No, no, you… you didn’t have to do this. Thank you…” Yuuri whispered. Still being mobbed by small dogs as he was, Victor tried to pull a few off him, only succeeding by distracting them with pets. 

“Oh you’re such a pretty puppy,” Yuuri cooed at the poodle with the rainbow collar. “Yes you are.” It licked his nose.

Yuuri particularly gravitated towards to poodles, though he did spare the huskies and German shepherds a few very fond looks. “When will they be old enough to take home?” Yuuri asked. 

“The poodles are a few days out, the huskies have two weeks, the rest are ready to go,” Seung Gil said dryly. “If you’re wanting to take one home today you’ll have to choose one of the others.”

Yuuri cast a longing look at the rainbow-collared poodle. Oh, Victor’s heart. Such a simple desire to grant. “How much to take this one home today?”

“Not possible,” Seung Gil said. He crossed his arms. “I don’t sell them a day before eight weeks, and at that, always after they are weaned. Separating them from their mother too soon causes long term health and social issues.”

“It’s okay, Victor. We can come back, right?” Yuuri held his breath, and Victor was helpless to resist. 

“Gives us time to get all the supplies,” Victor agreed.“Nothing but the best for our Zvezdochka.”

“Who says you get to name her?” Yuuri said with a squint, squishing the puppy to his chest. He got another lick to the cheek, and a little smile broke over his face. 

Victor laughed. He reached across to stroke the pup’s ears. “It was a joke. We can call her whatever you like. Is this acceptable?” 

Yuuri nodded. “I still can’t believe you’re getting me a dog,” he whispered to himself. Seung Gil began corralling the dogs back towards what appeared to be an enclosed, sheltered kennel area, until all that was left was the rainbow-collared pup in Yuuri’s arms. 

He let it down, and it frolicked through the grass with its little tail wiggling. Yuuri clutched his chest. “She looks so much like Vicchan, like a little toy.”

“Vicchan?” Victor said. “Was that your other poodle’s name?”

Yuuri nodded silently. “We aren’t naming her that, though. I’ll… have to think it over,” he mused. 

Victor nodded. Seung Gil gathered the pup up in his arms. “Alright, I’ll set this one aside for you. Are you paying now or when you pick her up?”

“I’ll pay now. Do you take plastic?” Victor asked with a grin. Seung Gil sighed, as though this was a horrible inconvenience for him. He wordlessly walked into his house with the pup under his arm. When he returned, he had replaced the poodle with a tablet that had a credit card reader attached. He tapped around a bit as Yuuri headed for the car. 

Victor smiled at Yuuri as Yuuri buckled up, his pretty little dancer casting a longing look toward the kennels. Seung Gil turned the tablet around. “That’ll be $11,350,” he said, displaying the screen. Victor swiped his card and beamed as he signed. 

“She’ll have all of her shots and papers available when you pick her up. Don’t bother coming to get her until I call you.” Without even so much as a goodbye, Seung Gil turned and walked back inside. 

Yuuri was positively buzzing when Victor came back. His eyes glittered and he fidgeted in his seat like an overeager child. Victor smiled at Yuuri. “Is this okay? I didn’t overstep, did I?”

“I’m surprised,” Yuuri admitted, “but… not in a bad way. This was a good surprise. A dog! Ah, Victor!” Yuuri was positively giddy. 

All traces of the previous upset were gone. And though Victor was certain they’d return, for now, Yuuri was shining brightly. “We can order supplies online when we get home. You can start pre-shopping while we drive home, if you want.”

“She’ll need a bed, bowls, collars for when she gets bigger, food,” Yuuri started rattling off, already throwing himself into preparations. Victor sat back in his seat, pleased. This was a situation with nothing but wins as far as the eye could see. 

Yuuri was happy, focused on a project that didn’t relate to dance, and it would keep him busy while Victor was away. But more than that, it grounded Yuuri here. It made Victor’s home more and more like Yuuri’s home. 

And Victor would be lying if he said that didn’t appeal to him as well. Victor enjoyed dogs, at least the concept of them. He’d never had one, despite entertaining the idea countless times since he was a boy. He admired their loyalty, their single-minded devotion, their willful obedience. 

Even when fully loyal and trained, they still had animal instincts inside them. Victor smiled sideways at Yuuri, throwing him a fond look as they made their way home. They were a little bit like someone he knew. 

* * *

**June 25, 2019**

Yuuri was given Victor’s amazon account. Victor didn’t even think twice about it. He came home from work and asked, “have you found any pet supplies you like?”

To which Yuuri replied, “To he honest, I don’t even know where to start. Should we go to the pet store?”

Victor smacked himself on the forehead.“Ah, I can’t believe I forgot.” He asked to borrow Yuuri’s phone, and five minutes later, he had Amazon pulled up, an account set up in Yuuri’s name with Victor’s credit card attached. He passed it back to Yuuri with a grin. “Price is no issue. Feel free to spoil puppy rotten. How about names?”

“I- I have a few ideas,” Yuuri stammered, but he was still stuck on the fact that Victor had just given him open access to the internet and beyond, and attached his goddamn bank account to it all. “Wait, you’re not worried I’m going to spend all your money?”

“If you want to spend all my money, I sincerely wish you luck,” Victor said. “My father left me with a substantial sum to my name. Spoil yourself, if you like, I don’t mind at all.”

Yuuri wheezed quietly. “I- thank you. You really don’t have to do this.”

“I like doing it,” Victor said. “I’ve never been able to take care of someone else before. I rather like it. This house has been too empty for too long.”

They moved together more easily now. Things didn’t need to be spoken in the same ways. Yuuri would head for the kitchen, and Victor would follow, heading for the fridge to get ingredients out. 

Yuuri sat himself on the kitchen counter with his phone in hand, tapping away while Victor cooked. “What about this one?” He held the phone up, showing a large pillow that the puppy would grow into.

“I love it!” Victor chirped. He reached past Yuuri for the spices, peeping down at the phone again as Yuuri was scrolling. “Ooh what’s that?”

“Looks like some kind of dog couch?” Yuuri said, laughing a little. It was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever seen. 

“We should get it! What if puppy likes it? She shouldn’t have to sit on the floor if she doesn’t want to!”

“But it’s so expensive!” Yuuri said. 

Victor checked the price. “Oh darling, you don’t want to know how much lunch cost, if you think that’s expensive.”

Yuuri squinted, then put the phone down. “Wait, how much did lunch cost? Victor! Argghh, come on!”

But Victor just laughed, whirling through the kitchen as breezily and easily as could be. He served up dinner, and they ate in easy quiet. 

It was the quiet moments that weighed on him the most. Times when a small, shaky part inside of Yuuri yearned to bite the bullet and fall into Victor’s arms, no matter how much it hurt. 

It had been so long since anyone had ever held him, longer still since it had been someone who cared about him. Did Bradley love him? Possibly, in a twisted way. Or he saw Yuuri as his perfect, pretty doll, and his sense of ownership was just easily mistaken for love. Yuuri snorted. One was certainly more likely. He closed his eyes. He wanted that feeling. 

Yuuri finished his dinner and sat back. “We need another session,” he said. “I don’t feel strong enough. I’m… I’m weak right now. I want to feel free.” He looked at Victor. 

“Seung Gil will call about the puppy any day now. Are you certain you want to do it before? Last time, you slept a lot for the next few days.” It wasn’t admonishment, just pure fact in Victor’s tone, and it was appreciated, rather than serving as an irritant. 

Yuuri took a steadying breath, considering Victor’s words seriously, though his mind was firmly made up. “I want to be there to pick up the puppy, but I need this, too, Victor. Please? I’ll make sure I’m… present. Somehow. I want to feel stronger when we pick her up.”

Victor rolled his shoulders and stood with a stretch. “Well, if you’re certain. I can get the ropes. I have something new I’m curious about this time, as well.” Yuuri regarded him curiously as they took their plates to the kitchen. “Just so you know, I won’t go easy on you, my darling Yuuri. Because you’re _ mine _.”

A low thrill pulsed through Yuuri at that. Why did it excite him so? Was Yuuri becoming a monster, his greatest fear of all? 

Still, Yuuri hurried to the bedroom, stripping himself nude and laying on the bed sheets to wait for Victor’s return. He was trembling with anticipation. Closing his eyes made the sounds of the house louder around him, made him hypersensitive of the softness of the blankets beneath his skin, the soft, clean scent of Victor that suffused every piece of fabric he owned. 

He took slow deep breaths.

Victor approached with barely a whisper of his footsteps. Apprehension seized Yuuri in iron claws. He forced himself to take slow, steadying breaths as Victor took his wrists in hand and slowly secured each of Yuuri’s limbs tightly to the corner posts. 

Yuuri splayed out on his stomach, prostrate on the sheets with the cool air prickling on his skin. He couldn’t help but test the bonds, just to see how they held. They didn’t budge. 

Victor padded the insides of each wrist loop with soft cloth and foam before tightening it down the rest of the way. It was oddly touching. Little things, small signs of tenderness. 

Victor moved on without a word, but Yuuri was fixated on the softness encircling his wrists, possibly to keep any marks at bay. He trembled lightly. 

“I have three things I wish to try,” Victor said. “Think you can hold on through those three things? As before, when you can’t take it anymore, tell me ‘crane’ and I’ll stop. I’m going to push you, Yuuri, because I know you can handle it, and because I want to see you at your most beautiful.”

Yuuri nodded. “Okay.”

“First thing,” Victor said. He stood beside Yuuri, starting at the soles of his feet, grazing them with light, ticklish touches. Yuuri squirmed, not from displeasure at the touch, but from the way it tickled. 

Victor moved with purpose to the heel, then the ankle, and the little fear inside Yuuri started to grow. Victor seized Yuuri’s calves in his hands and Yuuri yelped out loud, clutching his fingers into fists. 

“Shhhh,” Victor soothed, starting to massage the muscles. Yuuri dropped his head. He tried to relax, breathing in and out slowly despite his heart rate starting to ratchet up. The trapped feeling was back, and it was making the mania in Yuuri’s mind grow deafening. 

It was just his legs, Yuuri tried to tell himself. Completely nonsexual, nonviolent. A massage. Yuuri had gotten a massage once before, at a fancy dance retreat he’d been to once. This was a lot like that. Victor’s hands were less experienced, but enthusiastic and nimble enough to work out the knots and kinks he found.

Yuuri forced himself to take slow, focused breaths. Relax. This was not supposed to stress him out like this. Break or bend, he needed to keep breathing. 

Victor’s hands had shifted at some point, so subtly that Yuuri had scarcely noticed. They were near the back of his knees now, more on the upper calf than near the ankles. Yuuri’s heart leapt into his throat. Victor was moving up. 

Yuuri jerked in his bonds, instinctively fighting the ropes on an indescribable impulse. Even as panic rushed through his body, Victor just kept his same steady pace, rubbing his thumbs in tiny circles inside the backs of Yuuri’s knees. Each tense muscle jerked, forced to go lax under his touch. 

Yuuri let out a low whine. “Victor, wait-” he gasped. 

“Shhhh,” Victor murmured. “Save your strength for now. We’re only just starting.” Yuuri’s heart was beating so fast. The fear was raw, inhuman. “Relax,” Victor crooned.

Yuuri could hear his voice a million miles away. Victor’s hands left his legs. Yuuri breathed easy for a moment. 

Victor’s next touch went to Yuuri’s hands, just brushing the fingertips. Yuuri squeaked a startled little sound. Victor just kept humming as he ran his fingers up and down Yuuri’s hands, sometimes meshing the fingers together, sometimes tracing the lines and whorls of Yuuri’s fingerprints.

The soft music of Victor’s voice settled inside Yuuri. His own hands went lax, just letting Victor play for as long as he wanted. Hands were inoffensive. They weren’t close to his neck, they were safe.

Victor prodded Yuuri’s palms, curling and uncurling the fingers, manipulating them. 

“Good,” Victor said approvingly. Praise boiled up, burning the tips of Yuuri’s ears. There was something almost erotic about the soft way Victor toyed with Yuuri’s hands. He stroked along the length of Yuuri’s fingers. It was so delicate, a game of trust. 

Victor let go of Yuuri’s hands too soon, leaving Yuuri alone. He started breathing harder again. Victor’s fingertips skimmed lightly down Yuuri’s forearms, lifting at the elbows and reappearing just above the knee, drawing circles on the back of Yuuri’s thigh. 

It was back to tense once more. Yuuri had never felt more naked than he did right now, exposed and vulnerable. Victor had a predatory grace in the slow movements of his hands. And yet, despite every nerve ending in Yuuri’s body screaming out to run, there was nowhere to go. 

Yuuri could only face this head on, scream or beg or cry as he might. He bit his tongue, forcing a stony silence as Victor’s kneading touch worked its way closer to Yuuri’s ass. 

A knot lodged in Yuuri’s throat. The nonsexual touch was taking on a decidedly sexual turn in Yuuri’s brain. Victor’s touch didn’t linger any longer than it did anywhere else, didn’t take advantage of the naked swell of Yuuri’s ass more than it did any other strip of skin. He simply massaged the glute muscles with the same care he afforded every other limb. 

Still, Yuuri’s racing heart was impossible to silence. He huffed softly, beginning to jerk against his bonds once more. The futile attempt was just a waste of energy better spent elsewhere. 

“Calm yourself,” Victor chided softly. 

A low whine built in the back of his throat. His cock stirred despite the raw terror, but, perhaps, maybe it was because of it. 

The thought startled Yuuri more than any other. It shocked his system like cold water, and even Victor could see the way Yuuri went still for a long moment. The fear had mounted inside him until it was nearly unbearable but underneath it all, despite all reason and logic...

Yuuri felt safe. 

The ropes that pinned him down also served to ground him in reality. Their constant pressure was a reminder of where he really was, while also adding to that trapped feeling that made his mind go white. 

When he teetered on the edge, the closer Victor drew to Yuuri’s back, there was a foggy kind of pleasure in losing it all. When had he decided he trusted Victor so much? He was a fool who would lose him when the time came.

Perhaps Yuuri was a masochist at his core. Perhaps Yuuri was punishing himself for all the things he had done wrong in his life. Perhaps Victor was just another in that list, after Bradley’s emotional tortures and physical altercations. 

But it tasted so sinfully sweet, being here with Victor. It was the apple of Eden, an irresistible lure. Yuuri moaned softly, and he knew he had already taken a bite of that fruit and fallen from grace. 

Victor squeezed Yuuri’s butt again, and Yuuri rocked back into it, biting his lip and letting out one more moan. His cock was definitely interested. That combination of fear and trust and something else Yuuri was too scared to admit to— it was building inside him, inexorable pressure inside as he shifted against his bonds. 

Suddenly, Victor’s hands stopped on the backs of Yuuri’s thighs, deliberately nonsexual. But it did it for Yuuri, somehow, the raw potential of where those hands could go, what those hands could do. “Ah, Yuuri,” Victor said helplessly. “Just when I think I’ve figured you out, you surprise me yet again.”

Yuuri said nothing. 

Victor’s hands stroked over the back of his thighs again. His hands left goosebumps in their wake. “I wonder why,” Victor mused. “You’re screaming to let you go, then begging me for more with your body.”

The low grade tremble in his bones was building a little as Victor finally reached the small of his back. “I just don’t know,” Yuuri whispered at last. “I want you to let go, and I want you to touch me more, and both sides are screaming so loud, my brain can’t take it.”

“And then this here speaks up,” Victor said. His finger trailed down over the cleft in Yuuri’s cheeks, following the perineum until he was drawing faint circles on Yuuri’s balls. Yuuri went immediately taut against the ropes, hissing out pleasure and fear in one. 

He could stop this. One word would end it all. But Yuuri’s mind was only fuzzy on the edges, not so lost to his terror that it was all he could hold onto. Heat coiled in his stomach like molten lead. He bit his lip harder and sank into the sheets. 

Victor carefully extracted Yuuri’s cock from under him, laying it so it pointed downward towards the foot of the bed. It filled with blood in a heady rush. Yuuri could see Victor’s startled grin from here. 

“I think I will start step two now, then. You’ve done so well so far,” Victor praised. “But this will only get harder for you. Remember our word.”

Yuuri nodded tensely, ready for the next torture Victor could devise. His whole body tensed. He was braced for pain, for some kind of spark of a slap to his ass or the crack of a whip or _ something._ What he didn’t expect was this: a kiss to the base of his spine. 

Victor’s hair tickled the small of his back, bowed lips skimming the skin, and hands settled on Yuuri’s hips to hold him still. 

Yuuri’s eyes went wide, his body still. The only sound he could hear was the pounding of his pulse in his ears and the whispersoft _ smeck _ of Victor’s lips leaving his skin. Hands slid along his waist.

Yuuri ripped at the bonds, a low scream tearing at his throat. “Shhhhhh,” Victor hushed. Yuuri couldn’t hear it. His pulse was deafening. He kept screaming. His body convulsed like a creature possessed, his throat ripped ragged. 

Why?

Why was it so much worse than any pain? Why was this torture so excruciating, while remaining so much bliss? Heat unfolded where Victor’s lips had left the skin. No one else’s kiss had burned the way Victor’s did, like they soaked into his skin and tingled for minutes after. 

Victor stroked Yuuri’s sides, petting and cooing as Yuuri sobbed. It was too much. The word hovered at the tip of his lips. 

But this was only challenge two of three. Victor expected more of him. Yuuri took a shaky breath, clutching his hands into fists as he steadied his resolve. Tears leaked down his cheeks slowly. Every part of him ached down to his bones. 

“What’s the third thing?” Yuuri said, his voice hoarse. 

Victor let his hands rest on Yuuri’s hips, humming at Yuuri’s sharp gasp. “I want you to tell me about one of the times Bradley touched you and you didn’t want it.”

“No,” Yuuri gasped. “I- You’re crazy! Why do you want that?”

“Because I can overwrite that memory with a better one.” Victor said simply. “There is no need to allow it to torment you forever. But I can try to wash it away, replace it with something less threatning. Can I do this for you? Will you let me try?”

Victor tilted his head down so his face was within Yuuri’s field of vision. Yuuri sucked down a shaky breath. “You think it works like that?” he asked.

Victor shrugged. “Does it hurt to try?”

“Yes!” Yuuri cried. “It could- I would have to-”

“You already know he’s a monster. Does confronting the beast in your mind scare you so much?” Yuuri said nothing. “I didn’t know my little dancer was so scared of the phantoms of his past.”

Anger flared up. “It’s not like that! It’s- you say that like memories of the past are easy to face. But they aren’t. What if I asked you a painful memory?”

Victor winced. “Well, I suppose I may be asking a lot. However, I think this is something you can handle. I would also like to point out where my hands are currently sitting, while you’ve been preoccupied.”

Yuuri froze. Broad, warm hands rested on his shoulder blades, so close to his neck without so much as a warning. 

It felt like all the air was ripped from his lungs. He wheezed, unable to move.

“Tell me your memory, and I’ll let you have mine. Tit for tat. Fair?” Victor asked. Yuuri almost couldn’t hear it. Victor kneaded his fingers deeper into the muscle, drawing out the first scream. 

Yuuri was fighting again, straining at the ropes, his mind a rush of color and fear and panic and sensation. Starbursts popped. His head whirled. He thrashed until his body screamed and he just couldn’t stop. 

“Victor, Victor, please,” Yuuri sobbed. 

“You know how to end it.” Victor dug into Yuuri’s shoulders, edging closer and closer to Yuuri’s neck. Yuuri screamed louder. “Say the word, and I will stop it all. Stop me, Yuuri, or give up the memory and let me wash it away. What do you want me to do?” Victor insisted. 

The broken sobs fell from Yuuri’s lips. “Just stay here,” Yuuri begged. “Stay with me. Don’t leave me.” He tried to curl into a fetal position, only to be thwarted by the ropes. He hung limply from them. Victor’s hands paused, not lifting, but pausing their deep kneading. 

“I’m here, Yuuri, I’m not leaving. Why would I go?”

Yuuri shook his head hard. “Don’t leave, don’t leave,” he sobbed. It took several long moments to breathe enough to speak. Victor’s hands drew back from his shoulders, just holding his waist. 

“I’m here, Yuuri,” Victor said. His hands cradled Yuuri’s body, holding him firm no matter how hard Yuuri thrashed. Exhausted at last, Yuuri hung there, panting harshly. Victor beside him was visibly aroused. “I’m here for you, my Yuuri.”

The memory was scattered over his vision, overwhelming everything else. He shook his head so hard it made his neck ache. “The first time… Bradley hurt me. Really hurt me. He wanted to have sex, and I… I didn’t. I was tired, I- He wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“Did he force you?”

“No, not that time, not… not exactly.” Yuuri’s trembling started again. Every word was harder to say, a little harder to force out. “He begged, wheedled. Implied I was ungrateful and a bad boyfriend. I just... let him do what he wanted, but I wanted it to stop. He didn’t stop, he wouldn’t stop, no matter how hard I begged him to. I felt so... disgusting when it was done. I just laid there crying.”

Victor started working the muscles out again. Yuuri’s breath caught in his throat. It wasn’t Bradley. It wasn’t pain. He was safe. He had to remember he was safe, and he had a way out. 

The next part of the memory made him want to vomit. His entire body jerked with it, tears flowing anew. 

“Bradley- he- didn’t like that. We fought. He- he grabbed me by the neck. I couldn’t breathe.”

Flashes of that moment ripped through Yuuri’s mind, bright and horrifying. Unable to breathe, unable to move. Yuuri closed his eyes, forcing himself to push past. 

“He threw me into the bed and left. I was… so, so scared, and hurt, and alone. I like being alone, but sometimes I can’t take it! I didn’t want to be alone, and I didn’t want to be near him, and I didn’t know what to do!” Yuuri sobbed. “I had nowhere to turn, no one to trust. No one understood.”

He broke down, tears running ragged down his face once more. He rubbed his face against the tear stained sheets, crying himself out until he was limp. Victor rubbed his shoulders through it all, staying a tasteful distance from Yuuri’s neck. 

“Let it out,” Victor crooned. There was pain in his touch, but the way he unwound the muscles, picked at each knot, had the tension falling out of Yuuri’s body. “He’ll never hurt you again. No one will. I’ll protect you, and I’ll give you the strength to fight for yourself. I’ll give you the tools you need. Do you trust me, Yuuri?”

Yuuri’s lip quivered. “Yes.”

Victor left a kiss on Yuuri’s shoulder, another on his arm, all the way up to the bound wrists and clenched fists. “Then give me your troubles and let me dispose of them. Forget the pain. Leave only you and me. Focus on the ropes. On my touch. Bradley will never, ever touch you again.”

Victor wrapped his arms around Yuuri, and for a while, he simply held Yuuri, his breath hot and steady and slow against Yuuri’s bare skin. Yuuri sobbed and sobbed until his tears began to slow. 

It was like the weight vanished. Not all at once, not with any shocking revelation, but slowly, like each layer of it was peeled away. Yuuri was raw and quivering underneath. His bones were heavy and sleepy. Emotional turmoil had completely exhausted him, and left only euphoria. 

Victor leaned his head forward, resting his forehead against Yuuri’s. “You did so good, my beautiful Yuuri. So, so good. So beautiful. Stunning.” Praise melted into his skin. 

Yuuri felt dazed. His head was a million miles away, out of touch with reality. “How?” he whispered. “How do you make it possible?”

Victor hummed. “Your body is starved for touch, I think. You fear it and desire it in one. Our sessions, with one word, give you safety while putting out out of your comfort zone. Did you know you never begged me to let you go?”

Yuuri shifted, blinking at Victor. “What? But I- I definitely-”

“You begged for me, but never for release,” Victor said. He let his fingertips trail along Yuuri’s arms, toying with the ropes binding Yuuri’s wrists. “Do you want me to untie you, or do you wish to stay like this a little longer?”

Yuuri hummed, hanging limp in the ropes. His head was fuzzy and foggy. “I’ll stay… like this…” he murmured. “Please don’t leave.”

Victor smiled into Yuuri’s hair. He brushed it back from Yuuri’s face, leaving a soft kiss to his temple. “I’ll stay as long as you want.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PUPPIES


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri prepares to bring the puppy home.

**June 27, 2019**

Yuuri slept through most of the day and into the next. Contentment felt like a warm blanket over his body, giving him more peace than he had felt in years. 

Perhaps most shocking was spending the nights wrapped in Victor’s arms. Too dazed to push him away, to comfortable to even wish for it. 

Was he truly touch starved, as Victor had said? Yuuri had never been a touchy-feely kind of person, or given to grand, public displays of affection. Even with his family, Yuuri had never been inclined toward frequent physical contact. 

But with Victor, he ached for that casual physicality that Victor had taunted him with from day one. Victor had never been _ shy, _ per se, with his touches. The casual contact had taken a drastic drop in frequency since then, but recent events made it clear that Victor was no less interested. 

Massaging Yuuri’s back, leaving those small, whispersoft kisses up Yuuri’s spine. Holding Yuuri’s hands whenever it could be tolerated. 

Was Victor, perhaps, just as starved for touch? 

Yuuri’s wrists still ached dully when the following morning came, but he was every bit as trapped as he was when he had been bound up in ropes—Victor held him in a sleepy vice. He cuddled like a greedy octopus, all arms and legs twisted every which way, his nose buried in Yuuri’s hair. 

The absolute strangest part was that, despite the low burn of anxiety bubbling in the back of Yuuri’s mind, he found he didn’t mind the contact. Victor’s hands were clasped with Yuuri’s, fingers tangled atop the bedsheets. Nothing was near his neck. The sleepy contact was almost innocent. Maybe it was simply that Yuuri was too tired to move, his mind chugging in sluggish circles around the issue. 

_ Yes. I trust you. Why do I trust you? I simply do. So many chances to take it all away, so many chances to break me forever, and each time you surprise me, again and again. _

Yuuri closed his eyes, and he let himself drift away. Victor and his warm embrace were long gone when Yuuri woke up again, but the sheets still smelled like him, and the heavy blankets gave the aggressively air-conditioned bedroom a lazier feel than usual. 

He sat up slowly, not quite fully awake yet. Every muscle in his body was loose, aching with a deep seated weariness that settled down to his very bones. The feeling was growing more familiar each time, almost comforting in the way Yuuri felt so relaxed. 

Nothing seemed to matter quite so much anymore. All the important things were still there, but the screaming was muffled and the memories were hazy. 

Was the memory of that moment with Bradley gone? Of course not. Yuuri would never forget the fear, the pain. But when he thought of that moment, he couldn’t separate it from Victor’s breath in his ear, Victor’s hands on his skin. 

Yuuri shivered. 

_ Why do I trust you, how have you twisted me so? _

Yuuri walked silently down to the kitchen, finding an omelette waiting for him in the fridge. He reheated it and took it up to the studio, nibbling as he stretched and did some yoga. 

He was precariously balanced in a scorpion pose when his phone rang, startling him. It rang for several long seconds before it truly sank in that it was _ Yuuri’s phone _ringing. Confused, he let his feet drop to the floor and he stood, grabbing it and answering. 

“Hello?”

“Katsuki? This is Seung Gil Lee,” the man on the other end said, bypassing any basic greetings or courtesy. “Come by this weekend for your dog. She’ll be fully weaned by then, free to go. If you aren’t here between 8 am and 6 pm, don’t bother coming.”

Seung Gil hung up without another word. Yuuri blinked at the phone for a moment. This weekend? Excitement bubbled up. Bless two day shipping, Yuuri thought, throwing himself at his cart to make his final choices. 

He went over the checklist he had in the notes of the ridiculously shiny new phone, checking off everything that would be delivered by the time puppy came home. Food, toys, bedding, treats, a crate, a larger collar for her to grow into, and even the silly dog couch Victor had liked so much. 

It went against Yuuri’s usual policy, simply buying things without looking at the price. If it had been his own money, or something for his own sake, perhaps he would have cared. But Victor had given him a blank check for the puppy’s sake, and Yuuri would be damned if he didn’t spoil that sweet angel rotten. 

When he was certain that everything was accounted for, Yuuri returned to his stretches. By now, his breakfast had settled enough for him to begin dancing properly, and with his muscles limber and warm, he started into his daily routine. 

But all the dancing in the world couldn’t silence Yuuri’s brain. His thoughts lingered on Victor’s proposition. He’d been promised one painful memory of some kind, and Yuuri was unsure what to ask about. Victor seemed like an open book, for the most part, being extremely forthcoming about his past. 

But at the same time, there was still so much Yuuri didn’t know. There was no telling what secrets Victor held in his chest. Yuuri took a steady breath. There were a few things he could try, but if all else failed, he would simply have to be very careful with the question he asked. 

It was several hours before Victor finally came home. They cooked dinner, with Victor handing Yuuri a mandoline and a pile of vegetables to be sliced for roasting. Meanwhile, Victor tossed together what he called ‘sole filet au gratin’ which seemed to Yuuri more like a fancy name for fish cooked in the oven in a creamy sauce. 

But it looked delicious enough, and it would be ready in half an hour’s time. They sat on the couch, a movie playing quietly in the background, though Yuuri didn’t pay attention. His mind refused to fall silent. 

“Victor,” he said at last. “Do you remember what you said when we had our… session? About you telling me something in exchange for me giving up my own memory?”

“I do,” Victor said. “Do you want to do that now? We’ve got plenty of time before dinner.”

Yuuri sat back on the couch, wrapping himself up in one of the oversoft, oversized microfleece blankets laying around. He hummed quietly, trying to find the words he wanted. “I actually had another idea,” he said finally. “A trade. Tit for tat, like you said. You ask something, I ask something. Full honesty, and nothing off limits.”

Victor hummed, considering his options. “You know that makes you extremely vulnerable? There’s no telling what I might ask.”

“There’s no telling what I’ll ask,” Yuuri challenged. “You can’t lie, you can’t get mad. No secrets.” 

“I’m okay with that. Ask your question first. We’ll go until dinner is ready, and we can decide then if we wish to continue.” 

“I want the memory first,” Yuuri said. He lifted his chin, and Victor smiled warmly, giving Yuuri a nod. “Something you’ve never told anyone before.”

“Well, you already know my biggest secret,” Victor teased. 

Yuuri snorted. He wanted something deeper than that. “What was the worst memory of your life? The one thing you look back on with the most regret, the most pain?”

Victor drew up short. “You want… my most painful memory?” Yuuri nodded firmly. Victor glanced away, considering. “You really cut to the chase, don’t you?”

“Sharing that memory of Bradley, it was one of the most excruciating moments of my life, but it made me feel free. I want to know when you felt that shitty,” Yuuri said bluntly. “I don’t want something sickly sweet or fake. I want to know the real Victor.”

Something in Victor’s expression shifted, subtle and small. “My most painful memory…” Victor mused. His face fell. He’d found his memory, Yuuri could tell. “My lowest point…”

Yuuri leaned forward, listening. There was an anxious twitch in Victor’s fingers, a tension skating over his shoulders as he searched for the words that would share whatever secret he was holding inside. 

“This was after both of my parents were dead, after the career I had chosen for myself had been ruined. I had already signed all the documents with my father when I had agreed to take over for him, establishing that ownership would transfer to me upon his death. But when he died, there were more things to sign.

“There were always more papers. More things to figure out. His lawyers came to me with the last of it, that day, and I was already full of an overwhelming, existential dread, thinking of the life I had awaiting me. But it wasn’t until that moment the papers were slid in front of me that I realized just how bad it truly was.”

“How bad?” Yuuri asked. “You were set to become the head of one of a massive company and inherit the fortune that comes with it.”

“I was, and I wanted none of it. It struck me, how my mother would have cried to see me there today, my knee and my chances at ever dancing again, ruined forever. I was signing my life away the same way she had when she married my father. It was a death warrant. I wanted to die, more certain of this than anything I’d ever known. I was trapped and powerless, two things I hate more than anything else in the world.”

Yuuri looked away from Victor’s eyes, unable to bear the way the light in them suddenly went dark. It was one thing to think those thoughts of darkness himself. It was another to hear of someone else experiencing that same darkness. 

“I don’t think I need to tell you the way the hopelessness crushed me, inside and out. The way it felt like life had lost all meaning. You and I, we know what it is like to feel buried so deep in our loneliness, to feel powerless against the rush of the world around us. I signed my life away, and as soon as they were gone, I attempted to overdose on pills I kept in the drawer.”

“Just like that?” Yuuri asked, voice barely rising above a whisper. 

“Just like that,” Victor said simply. “As you can see, I was unsuccessful. I woke up sick as hell, and probably destroyed my liver. And I told myself that was simply how things were, that I should resign myself to this life I would now lead. I cut my hair off, and I decided that I would see it through to its natural conclusion. Except for my… hobbies, I would consider this one of my best kept secrets. I have never told anyone this before.”

It was somber for a while, silent between them. If Victor had successfully killed himself, how many people would be alive now? A greedier part whispered, _ wouldn’t you still be with Bradley, if so? _

Yuuri curled himself up into a ball. His skin crawled. He’d craved physical contact before, but never as badly as this, never with someone that, by all accounts, was the worst possible option for it. He huffed quietly. “Thank you for telling me.”

“What was your dog’s name?” Victor asked. 

“That’s what you want to ask me?” Yuuri asked, immediately flushing red. He could not tell Victor what the little pup’s real name was, no way. 

“I’m trying to brainstorm names for puppy and I was thinking you could give me inspiration!” Victor said. 

“... Vicchan,” Yuuri said. “We called him Vicchan.”

“Vicchan is a cute name. Did it mean something?”

“You asked your question,” Yuuri said tartly. He sat up in the blankets. “Why do you kill people?”

“Because I can?” Victor said faintly. Yuuri frowned, and Victor amended it. “I suppose… you know I strive for beauty.”

“And the… what was it, the sexual aspect?” Yuuri added. 

Victor smiled. “Yes, there is that. But I think… the reason that it appeals to me as a whole is less either of those reasons and more… the chase. The conquest. The challenge. How did Vicchan die?”

Yuuri flinched. “Painfully, and without me there. He was with my family and I left him there. Why do you like tying me up and touching me? And don’t pretend you don’t, you were aroused the whole time. You’ve had every chance in the months I’ve been here to kill me, and you haven’t. So why? What about tying me up satisfies you more than my death?

“And here I thought you weren’t paying attention,” Victor teased. He tapped his chin. “It’s true, I do enjoy it. I suppose…. when I kill, I hold life and death in my hands. I control their fate. And when you put your fate willingly into my hands, it gives me that same feeling. I could take so much away, and yet, bringing you pleasure and pain gives me so much more.”

“But why is it _ arousing_?” Yuuri asked. 

“For you or me, Yuuri? And I believe it’s my turn.” Yuuri snapped his jaw shut. “What’s your favorite color?”

“... Blue? Why is it arousing for _ you?”_ he pressed. 

Victor smiled. “You know the answer to that. I find you beautiful, more beautiful than words can begin to describe. Your stubborn nature, the fire in your soul, the blinding brightness every part of you burns with. You’re _ radiant, _Yuuri. And when you give yourself to me, the way you put all your faith in me when you’re bound in rope, it’s almost more than I can bear.”

Yuuri’s heart was in his throat. “You don’t really mean that. You can’t. Nice words are meaningless. That was how Bradley kept me fooled for so long.”

Victor’s eyes were dark, dilated with the heat of how he stared at Yuuri. “Nice words are meaningless when there is no substance backing them up. But don’t you see the way you affect me? Care to feel my pulse, and see the way my heart races when I have you near? I do adore you, my Yuuri, but whether you believe me or not, I leave to you.”

Yuuri lifted his hand, then hesitated, drawing it back to the safety of the blanket. Victor’s adam’s apple bobbed in his throat when he swallowed. “I’ll believe you for now.”

“What is your favorite food?” Victor asked. 

“My mother’s katsudon. Pork cutlet, fried and served with rice and egg and sauce. Why are you giving me easy questions when I keep asking hard ones? I don’t want pity and soft tosses, if that’s what you’re doing,” Yuuri growled, getting frustrated. 

“They aren’t ‘soft tosses’, I genuinely want to know these things,” Victor said. “You don’t like to reveal much of your own desires and pleasures, and I can only infer so much. Why do you get so frustrated when you think I’m going easy on you?”

“Because- because you said you wouldn’t! It would mean you were going back on your word. I don’t want to be treated like some thing to be coddled and protected. I can’t grow stronger without exposing myself to these things. I’ll grow immune to the poison one day, as long as I keep taking small doses, right?”

“But what if you take too much too soon?” Victor said. 

Yuuri ignored the question; he looked away instead. “Why do you think… I get… aroused?” he said softly. “I mean, when I’m tied up. Even when I’m terrified and crying, I still feel this… edge.”

“Because you want to be connected every bit as much as you fear it. Because you’re afraid to want it. It may be a touch arrogant but… I do think you want _ me _. No matter how little you’re willing to say it.”

Yuuri’s gaze bored holes in the carpet. “I don’t want to be afraid,” he whispered. Feeling bold, he thrust his hand out, not willing to give his confidence the chance to waver. He clasped Victor’s hand in his own, squeezing it fiercely tight. “Not of you, not of anyone. Definitely not of Bradley.”

Victor’s grin was radiant. “Yes! I love that fire right there. _ Adore it!_” He threw himself forward, wrapping his arms around Yuuri before Yuuri could even see what was happening. 

Yuuri was frozen in place, wheezing with the shock of suddenly being wrapped in every inch of Victor’s body, Victor’s long limbs and warm embrace. Whispery gasps slipped out. His breath was shaky as he swallowed down air. 

Victor was holding him, not so tight that Yuuri couldn’t breathe or break out, but with a solid grip, firm and warm. Victor’s chin was on Yuuri’s head. He was-

They were hugging. 

“Victor,” Yuuri managed in a small voice. 

“Is this bad?” Victor asked. He stroked a hand through Yuuri’s hair, doubtless able to feel the way Yuuri trembled like a leaf. Yuuri forced himself to breath through his mouth, in and out. Victor’s pulse fluttered against his skin, fast as a bird’s. Yuuri’s slowed to match. 

A part of him ached to feel Victor’s skin on his, his heart throbbing with greed and satisfaction. “Not… entirely,” Yuuri confessed at last. 

The alarm on Victor’s phone went off, and Yuuri flinched away, falling onto the couch on his back. “I think dinner is ready,” Victor said. “Did you have any more questions you wanted to ask?”

“Just one,” Yuuri said. “What do you want? No matter how crazy, I just wonder… What’s your greatest wish? To dance again?”

Victor smiled. “More than anything else? I think… one day, I would like a kiss from you.” 

* * *

**June 29, 2019**

Yuuri was giggling like mad as they drove home from the breeder’s house, the tiny poodle puppy wrapped up in a blanket and perched on Yuuri’s lap. She nosed at Yuuri’s fingers as he petted her, the soft brown curls just like silk. 

When all of her things arrived that morning, they both knew there wasn’t a moment to waste. Yuuri had dressed in a wild rush, even beating Victor to the car. And now they were bringing the puppy home. Yuuri’s giddiness was infectious, because even Victor was grinning like a fool. 

“Have you got a name picked yet?” Victor asked. 

Yuuri shook his head. “I still haven’t been able to pick. There’s too many things… and now that I have her in my arms, none of my ideas seem to fit her.”

“She’ll grow into them!” Victor said. “What were you thinking about?”

“I mean, I was considering Cocoa, but her fur is a bit lighter than that.”

“She’s more of a creamy coffee color,” Victor agreed. “Like a caramel frappe mochaccino.”

“That’s not even a real thing,” Yuuri snorted with a smile. The puppy nipped at his fingers before settling down, already exhausted from her grand adventure to the car. 

“It is too! A mochaccino is exactly the same color as her fur!” Victor said excitedly. “When we get home, we can make one, I’ll show you!”

“But mochaccino?” Yuuri said skeptically. “I’m not sure…”

“Well, we can put a spin on it? Mochachin, like Vicchan! Or Mickaccino, or Makkaccino-“

“Makkachin sounds cute,” Yuuri murmured. “It’s different, but it’s fitting. What do you think?”

“It’s perfect,” Victor said, beaming. 

“Well, let's make a couple of mochaccinos and see if it fits,” Yuuri said, unable to stop smiling. Holding the puppy in his arms seemed to give everything a brighter cast. They made it back to the house.

Yuuri placed puppy—Makkachin?—on the ground to snuffle excitedly at the grass and flowers of her new home. She tumbled around while Victor went inside. 

He re-emerging a few minutes later with a pair of clear glass mugs topped with foam, whipped cream, and a drizzle of chocolate. Yuuri made a show of holding the mug in the air, gauging the color of the coffee in the sunlight. 

Victor was hiding a smile behind his hand. Yuuri took a sip and hummed at the velvety chocolate taste, and the foamy creaminess of the texture. Yuuri often preferred tea to coffee, but the taste of the drink was divine, and the bitterness was tempered by the rich flavoring. 

Makkachin yipped, a high, clear, puppyish bark as she explored. “I concede defeat,” Yuuri said. “Makkachin’s fur _ is _ the same color as a mochaccino.”

“Makkachin,” Victor cooed. “Makka makka makkachin, come here, cutie pie!” Makkachin tumbled on her side, rolling in the grass. “Ah, she’ll learn her name soon,” Victor said warmly. 

It was almost surreal. The night was spent trying to cajole her into peeing outside instead of on the tile floor in the kitchen. She was a clever little girl. She adored her toys, and gleefully devoured the soft puppy food they gave her, her little tail wagging frantically. 

Yuuri held her in his arms late that evening. She would need to be crate trained, though Yuuri doubted she would spend much time in it once she was fully potty trained. He gave her treats and kisses and cooed at her, promising her the world and telling her she was a good girl, such a good girl. 

When Victor echoed those sentiments, when he praised Makkachin for doing her business outside, Yuuri stared at Victor’s lips, unable to stop thinking. 

Yuuri had seen crime dramas on network tv. He’d seen the procedural dramas with sociopaths and psychopaths taking lives without a single regard for the feelings of their victims. Victor wasn’t like that. He hid his feelings, yes, and he was very, very good at it. But he still had those human pains, those human desires, buried deep. 

Why, then, did he kill, truly? There were other ways for him to find the challenge, the conquest. 

Yuuri had turned to dance. His need to be competitive, to be the _ best, _overwhelmed everything else, sometimes even to the point of souring his love for it. Victor couldn’t do that anymore. But there were other avenues for that competition, things that didn’t mandate the loss of human life. Victor wanted the conquest, but he wanted something else. 

The emotional component. Victor had said it himself—he loved seeing Yuuri tied up for the satisfaction of the emotional struggle Yuuri went through. He loved Yuuri’s fear, acceptance, the way Yuuri fell into it all. 

More than that, though.

There was such a direct conflict between the Victor Yuuri had seen at their first meeting and the current Victor. Comparing them, that malevolent specter of death Yuuri had met like a waking nightmare, and the beaming Victor of today, it was hard to see how they could even be the same person. 

This Victor waltzed through life like he was glowing, forever smiling. And unlike the smiles from before, the ones Victor had worn the first few weeks and the ones in the pictures of days past, these were _ real _. Something in his eyes managed to make Yuuri forget his fears. Maybe not perfectly, but it gave him the strength to confront his issues himself. 

Yuuri had been grappling with the conflict of whether it made him a monster or not, to stand by Victor’s side, knowing the things he had done. Yuuri struggled to sleep that night, and it wasn’t because of Makka. 

When Victor left for work the following morning, Yuuri started to work on training Makkachin. No matter how hard he tried, his mind kept returning to Victor. Yuuri was too comfortable in this life. He relied too much on Victor, and now they had a dog together, like this was some kind of domestic family.

Yuuri returned to the bedroom, and he pulled the book from the false bottom of the bedside drawer. Makkachin curled in his lap as he flipped through the pages.

He felt almost numb as he looked at the mask-like faces of death. Each photo page held a new victim. 

Yuuri paused on Sara, frowning deeply. His heart ached to look at it, the peaceful downturn of her lip, the soft expression she wore in death. A new page had been added between Sara and Yuuri’s pages, one for the dancer that had been slain when Victor was out of town.

The page was almost sloppy, compared to the others. Hastily done, without the same regard as the other pages. It was like it had been done simply to maintain a record, rather than out of any real desire to make it. 

With Victor distracted by Yuuri, there were fewer victims. It was the simple truth, a raw fact that Yuuri couldn’t deny. Victor had upheld his promise since then, never so much as mentioning another kill. 

Yuuri didn’t even see him with the same twitchy nature. Was it possible that Victor was satisfied simply by turning his attentions to Yuuri?

No, Yuuri refused to entertain any thoughts that might tie him to Victor in a way that would trap him. Even if Yuuri did play a role in limiting the spread of death, it wasn’t on him to save others. It wasn’t his job, it wasn’t his duty. Yuuri needed to learn to be selfish for once, to protect himself and his heart. 

Part of being selfish boiled down to one crucial question, Yuuri realized. Why? Why him? What did Victor see in Yuuri in the first place to make him choose to capture him, rather than simply killing him like the others?

Yuuri put the book back, and he awaited Victor’s return, throwing his tumultuous thoughts into his dancing. He only paused to give Makkachin the occasional bit of attention, to rub her ears, to take her outside, to keep her from wandering underfoot.

It was irresistibly cute, and Yuuri laughed helplessly every time Makkachin chased his dancing feet across the floor, nipping his toes playfully. It must be a sin to be so happy in the home of a serial killer. 

Victor watched from the doorway for a few minutes before Yuuri noticed he had come home from work. He was smiling again, that same, fond smile he always seemed to wear now. “Are you ready for me to coach you?” Victor asked, and Yuuri shook his head.

“I wanted to talk, actually,” Yuuri said. He sat on the floor, beckoning for Victor to do the same. It was quiet for a long moment. Victor waited patiently, though there was a nervous edge in the way he sat, unsure of what Yuuri would say. 

“Is something wrong?” Victor asked, tilting his head so cutely. How was this man the same monster Yuuri had met before? Yuuri clenched his hands into fists.

He couldn’t afford to lose focus now. “Can we talk again, the way we did the other day? A question for a question, no lies, just honest answers?”

Victor blinked. “I suppose so. What do you want to know?”

“When you abducted me, it wasn’t the first time you’d made contact,” Yuuri murmured. Makkachin crawled from his lap to Victor’s, and Victor started to pet her. “I remember it, you sent me flowers, and I gave them to Sara instead. You took her.”

“I wanted you,” Victor confirmed. “She was incidental. Quite lovely, but entirely incidental.”

“Why me?” Yuuri said. “That’s what I want to know. Why was it that you sent those flowers to _ me _instead of Sara? Why did I catch your eye where she hadn’t? You were willing to settle, and then suddenly you weren’t, and you came back again, and-”

“Yuuri,” Victor murmured. “Are you upset that I took Sara instead of you?”

“Why me, in the first place?” Yuuri insisted. “It doesn’t matter why you picked her in the interim, why would you ever try to get me over her in the very beginning?”

Victor blinked, baffled. “Why would I- Yuuri, I’ve been longing for you for a great deal of time. Long before I ever sent those flowers. I took Sara because I was infuriated I had lost out on you. Our little game, I thought.”

“What?” It was Yuuri’s turn to be confused. “What game?”

“I had thought you more aware of it than this, at the very least,” Victor muttered. “After you had so thoroughly seduced me, with that fragile, broken beauty you wore like a porcelain mask. But, alas, I suppose it makes sense. I should have realized you didn’t know. It should have been obvious the last time we drank together, and you forgot the entire night.”

“What do you mean?” Yuuri said.

“I asked you about champagne, and you were clueless. Then you forgot everything you did the following morning, even the embrace we shared, before you began feeling skittish around me. You don’t even remember the night we first met, do you?” Victor asked. 

Yuuri stared for a long, long time. “I would assume that, no, I don’t,” he said finally. “What exactly happened? When was it?”

“Several months ago, at the very least. There was a charity event at your theater,” Victor said, recalling a long distance memory. Yuuri struggled to remember what it was he was referring to. 

Of course his theater had put on charity galas and events from time to time, to facilitate enough fundraising to keep the shows running at their highest quality. Benefactors and honored guests mingled with each other, as well as with the dancers and owners. 

“This one was early on in the run of La Sylphide. I remember visiting, though I didn’t know at the time much about many of the performers who would be taking the stage the following night. I didn’t know about you.”

“So what happened?” Yuuri asked, already dreading the answer. The night was a blank, soft and absent the way his drunken escapades so often were. Whatever he’d done was gone from his memory.

Victor pulled out his phone, scrolling for a bit before passing it over without a word. Yuuri was almost afraid to look, but shying away would never give him the answers he sought. He picked up the phone. 

The photos were almost more horrifying than he could have imagined. The first few were of him in varying stages of undress, losing more and more clothing with each one. He was dancing like a fool, displaying every bad decision Yuuri could have possibly made at a public function. 

And the thing was, in every photo that had both Yuuri and Victor, they were both smiling. Beaming wide, in fact. Victor wore that smile Yuuri had come to know in recent weeks, the one of raw joy, with nothing faked or forced. They danced in every style and way. Yuuri even pole danced, using a spare decorative metal post as a fixture to wrap his thighs around.

_ Stick with ballet, babe. Pole dancing is trashy, and I don’t ever want to see you doing that again_. 

But Victor wasn’t like that at all. Victor would never tell Yuuri what he was and wasn’t allowed to do. “I danced with you,” Yuuri forced himself to say. It was true, there was no denying the pictures. “That was how we met?”

“Not just met,” Victor said wistfully. He looked so lost in fond memories, Yuuri could almost not recognize him. “Yuuri, the moments we shared felt like something ripped from a fairy tale. You laughed and begged me to teach you. You looked so vulnerable, so desperate, and yet at the same time, so intensely hungry for success.”

“That caught your eye?”

“The way you grabbed me, yes, I don’t think anyone ever seized me by the hand and heart the way you did that night. I looked up your performances, followed your shows. I was so disappointed to see opening night.”

Yuuri couldn’t look him in the eye. “It was bad, I know,” Yuuri said. “If I could do it again-”

“But that was what fascinated me,” Victor said. “I knew you were able to dance. I had seen you move in a way only someone with complete control of their body could ever move. But on stage, I saw you move haltingly, as though you were scared the stage would open up and send you plummeting.”

“I was convinced I would mess up,” Yuuri said. “So convinced that it shattered my confidence. But that still doesn’t explain why you wanted me so badly that you would come back for me.”

“I already did,” Victor said. “I saw something in you I had never seen before. I sent those flowers because I needed to possess you. I wanted to know what you would look like if you were made beautiful. It was simple luck that you were bruised enough to make me hesitate, rather than simply kill you outright.”

“But you killed Sara!” Yuuri screamed. It was quiet for a long moment. Finally, it was out in the open: the reason Yuuri had hesitated for so long. 

Strangers were forgettable, just more faces in a crowd. This face had a name, a family. She meant something to Yuuri, to Michele, to her family, to all of the patrons of their shows. Sara was something _ real _. And Yuuri had spent too long and too much time pretending it wasn’t like that. Pretending that it was okay because Victor didn’t hurt Yuuri. 

Victor spoke softly. “If I could go back in time and change it, I would. The last thing I would ever want is to hurt you. I would fight my entire life to atone for your loss. But I can’t bring someone back to life, Yuuri. I can only end it.”

Yuuri broke down in tears. “I always thought it should have been me that died that day. I always wished it was me. And I know she can’t ever come back, and nothing will ever make it okay! I just- I don’t know what I want, Victor! I can’t forgive something like this! And I’ve tried so, so many times. You have no idea how badly I want to make it all okay, and just forget it, because it would make everything so much easier-”

“You don’t have to forget-”

“You don’t get it!” Yuuri said. His voice dropped, his chest aching. “There are moments when I do forget, just for a second. And then I remember again, I remember and there’s nothing I can do about it, and I feel so helpless, Victor! Is this what killing someone feels like? How does this feel _ good _to you?”

Victor said nothing, just letting Yuuri pour out all the words, all the pain he had bottled up inside him. Every last word spilled like poison. Victor accepted it all, his eyes painfully soft as he gazed at Yuuri.

“I can’t take feeling like this, all twisted up inside! You make me feel things I’ve never felt before, things I don’t even understand. But I can’t get over this, no matter how long it’s been!”

“I can’t make you change your mind,” Victor said finally. He spoke gently. “I can’t force you to think the way I want you to think. I can hand you the world, tell you my thoughts, and give you a chance to see things the way I do, but in the end, only you can make up your mind. That’s what Bradley never understood about you, and that’s what I’m finally starting to see.”

“So you’re not begging for forgiveness?” Yuuri asked.

Victor shook his head. “I can’t and I won’t. I can’t expect something of you like that. I know I hurt you. But she’s gone, and you’re still here. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

Yuuri sat back, not able to look Victor in the eye. “I need time to think.”

“Do you want to dance?” Victor asked. “I know you like to think things through by dancing.”

Yuuri shook his head violently. “No, not with you. I need time alone to think,” he said at last. Victor looked sad, but nodded his head. 

“I understand. Take as long as you need,” he said. Victor reached for Yuuri’s hand, but stopped before touching it. He pulled back with a nod. “I’ll leave you alone for now.”

Yuuri moved into the dance studio and let the energy burn itself out. He moved until he couldn’t breathe, until his body would ache in the morning. At last, he settled in. His phone rang, and Yuuri glanced up.

It was the police station’s number again. He walked over to where it was laying in the corner, and he answered. “Hello? Yuuri here.”

“Yuuri, how are you?” a bright voice asked. Yuuri vaguely recognized it from when he had visited the station last-- Phichit Chulanont, who worked in the domestic violence division. 

Of all the people at the station, Phichit had been the most supportive of Yuuri. He’d offered to give Yuuri a place to talk if he needed it, but Yuuri had yet to take him up on it. Somehow, the idea of asking for advice about dealing with a serial killer didn’t appeal to him much. 

“I’m good,” he said cautiously. “Is everything alright?”

“I wanted to let you know that we’re building a fairly solid case against Bradley. However, we will probably need you to give a statement about some past events just to clarify a few more things for us.”

“Is he…” Yuuri asked, hesitating. “Did he make bail?”

Phichit’s tone was grim. “He did. Don’t worry, he’d have to be a damned fool to come within a hundred feet of you. He knows it’ll violate the terms of bail. I’ll make sure to let you know closer to time, what exactly we’ll need. But there’s some pretty solid evidence from the beginning that will really speak in your behavior. He may be on bail, but he knows he’s on borrowed time.”

“Okay, thank you for letting me know. I’ll… work on getting ready for that,” Yuuri said, nodding to himself. He could do this. 

“No problem! And if you ever want to talk, I’m seriously here, okay Yuuri? You don’t have to face anything alone.”

Yuuri forced a smile, even if Phichit couldn’t see it either way. “Thank you. I might take you up on that.”

* * *

**June 30, 2019**

In the morning, Yuuri and Victor dressed in relative silence. 

Yuuri wanted to take Makkachin for a short walk to start leash training her. Victor had no issues about letting Yuuri go alone, but something about the openness of the empty blue sky set Yuuri ill at ease even now. 

Even mad at Victor, still unsure of what he wanted, a part of him felt more comfortable going outside knowing that Victor was there. Yuuri felt stronger near Victor than he did alone. 

Wasn’t that how relationships should be? 

Makkachin was yapping and yipping eagerly as they set out. The morning air was still pleasant, not quite hitting the full stride of early summer. Yuuri breathed it all in. 

“Makkachin!” Yuuri groaned as she bounced all over, straining at the edge of the wound up leash. Yuuri reeled her in closer. The more she fought, the closer he brought her in, and the more she lunged at the edge of the lead. 

Victor giggled at her antics. “Give her a bit of slack, Yuuri! Don’t hold her leash so tight!”

“She’ll just run off, though!” Yuuri fretted. 

“She’s not going anywhere,” Victor said. “Just give her some more space, see what she does.”

Yuuri cautiously let the leash out a bit. Makkachin yipped delightedly and bolted off, running eager circles around Yuuri’s legs. But, surprisingly enough, she didn’t continue to pull. She sniffed some grass near the edge of the leash, and trotted back, happy as could be.

“How did you know she would do that?” Yuuri asked. 

Victor shrugged. “I didn’t know. I just guessed. She’s curious, and likely wants to test the limits of her new home. She has to find her place, and keeping her trapped will only frustrate her.”

“Where on earth did you learn that?” Yuuri asked. 

Victor smiled softly, giving Makkachin a few pets. He tipped his head toward Yuuri, directing that soft smile up. “I learned it from watching you.”

Yuuri finished their walk in silence. Victor said his goodbyes and headed off to work late. Yuuri folded a few paper animals and set them around the house, humming all the while. Makkachin took a certain joy in attacking the paper creatures and bringing them back to Yuuri. She’d be good at fetch, Yuuri could already tell. 

Yuuri headed back to the bedroom, loading up one of his games. 

It was still so strange that Yuuri could simply do anything he wanted. If he asked Victor for a pole to relearn some of his old routines, Victor wouldn’t call him a whore or tell him he’d just get hurt. He would trust Yuuri to take care of himself. He’d ask where Yuuri wanted to install it. 

That was the strangest thing. It was something he’d started taking for granted. Victor never questioned him in a belittling way. Victor didn’t want to make Yuuri feel small. He wanted Yuuri to feel bigger than he was, confident in his own choices and himself. Unquestionably, he was a better choice than Bradley, at least from that standpoint. But could Yuuri live with a man who did the things Victor did? 

There were days it didn’t feel real, days where it was impossible to put the two Victors in the same place. Did it make Yuuri complicit, to know the things he did and remain silent on the matter? 

But Victor helped, he made life better. Yuuri was a damned fool, and he wanted the conflict in his mind to silence itself. He wanted that moment of calm, of peace. Was it so much to ask to forget, for just a little while?

Yuuri blinked to himself, setting the game aside. He rose slowly, like waking from a dream. He took Makkachin outside, made sure she would be okay, and topped off her water dish. With the sweet puppy taken care of for the time being, Yuuri moved to the kitchen.

The fridge was well stocked with food, mostly. Yuuri assumed Victor had some sort of space in his basement dedicated to wines, since the collection in his fridge was more modest than expected of a man who cooked with wine the way his mom used dashi. But the wine in the fridge was still more than nice enough to drink.

Yuuri pulled out two bottles and the bottle opener from the drawer, and he took the lot of it to the bedroom. He uncorked the first and set to work, drinking it with a stubborn determination. 

It was fruity and light, smooth down his throat as he drank it down. He was halfway through the bottle when he felt the urge to pee. He quashed it down and kept drinking. He finished the first with a rough gasp of breath. 

The world seemed to swim before him. He staggered to his feet, almost losing his balance for the first second, before bracing himself against the headboard. He made it to the bathroom in one piece, and relieved himself. He returned and set to work on the next bottle. 

It went to his head, muffled the swirling thoughts and silenced all the doubts in his head. It was only an hour later that Yuuri heard the door open, heard Victor step inside with a sweeping “I’m home!” that filled the empty house. Yuuri smacked his lips, laying back on the bed in inebriated bliss, a puppy laying along his leg. 

Even with the air conditioner on, it was so hot. Yuuri was boiling alive. He’d shed his pants and his shirt, keeping just his underwear and socks on. He couldn’t bear the thought of anything touching his skin, so he had shoddily made the bed, laying out over the crisp, flat comforter. Victor walked inside, and his smile wavered when he smelled the booze on the air. 

“Yuuri, are you alright?”

“Victooor,” Yuuri slurred. This was a stupid idea. No, this was a great idea. Yuuri looked him up and down before letting his head fall back. “Why are you so handsome? Hate you sometimes, so stupidly pretty,” he grumbled to himself. He petted Makkachin in aggravation. 

It was such a problem that Victor was so handsome. It made it so easy to forget the things he had done. So many things, some good, some bad. Why did it even matter?

Victor smiled as he walked closer, taking Yuuri’s hand in his own. It was so warm on Yuuri’s skin, but unlike the blankets, this heat felt nice. Yuuri made a soft, crooning noise and rubbed his cheek against the back of Victor’s hand. It felt good. 

Victor smiled warmly. “Looks like someone got into the wine. Do you want to come with me while I finish cooking dinner, or do you want to relax up here?”

Yuuri hummed through the drunken fugue. His eyes fluttered as he thought it over. “I’ll follow,” he said at last. He used Victor’s hand to get up off the bed, balancing heavily against Victor. His body was so warm, so cozy. His suit felt nice on Yuuri’s skin. 

Victor laughed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yuuri, my sweet, are you trying to tempt me?”

Yuuri blinked with wide eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Naked and touching me,” Victor mused. “You certainly are a different creature while intoxicated. Aren’t you afraid I’ll bite?”

Yuuri huffed, almost losing his balance on the stairs and grabbing tight to Victor’s arm for support. “You wouldn’t even bite me hard enough. Don’t- don’t tease me.” He blinked owlishly. “Why don’t I ever get to see you drunk?”

“I already have a hard enough time restraining myself around you,” Victor chuffed, amused. “I might lose control and kiss you.”

“Mmmm… would you cuddle me, too?” Yuuri slurred. He held Victor a little tighter. “Bradley never ever ever cuddled me. Not _ eveeerr. _Sometimes I just wanna… wanna cuddle,” Yuuri continued. 

What if Victor tried to break away? Yuuri couldn’t let that happen. Unless Victor wanted to be free, and Yuuri would let him, but Yuuri certainly didn’t want that. 

“I’ll cuddle you as much as you wish,” Victor said, wrapping himself snugly around Yuuri’s body and hugging him close. Yuuri preened. It felt like it had been so long since he’d been hugged like this. Every touch from Victor felt like a touch to raw nerves, almost more than Yuuri could bear, but somehow scintillating and bright. 

Victor stepped away at last to pull a pair of glistening steaks from the oven, deftly pouring the steaks and drippings alike into a pan to sear. 

Yuuri gazed around the kitchen, eyes glazed. Victor was cooking with more wine, and Yuuri sneaked over to take a swig right from the bottle. Victor stole it away, replacing it with a wine glass that he half filled. 

Not fair. Yuuri started to pout. “Victoooor,” he moaned. He swallowed a generous measure of wine, humming at the different flavor of this bottle of Zinfandel compared to the red he’d downed earlier. “Gimme… please?”

“I never did get to ask my questions,” Victor said. “You asked quite a few yesterday, and I have so many things I want to know, too. I’ll let you have more if you are okay with answering them.”

Yuuri squinted, watching him suspiciously, before nodding. He drained his wine glass and held it back out expectantly, pouting when Victor didn’t immediately comply. Soon, his glass was half filled once more, and Victor was prodding the wine reduction on the stove. 

Yuuri’s skin prickled in the cool air. The food smelled divine, but more stunning by far was the vision of Victor with his suit jacket abandoned on the back of a bar stool, his shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows, and an apron protecting his slacks. Perhaps Yuuri was spacing out, staring at the lean lines of Victor’s body, the strength. 

His hands looked so long and slender, like a pianist’s fingers. Did those same hands choke the life out of Sara? 

Yuuri’s whole mood turned sour. Bad Yuuri, bad, bad Yuuri. Forgetting the point of this whole drunken exercise. A single night of thoughtless peace, that was all Yuuri asked for. His cheeks were flushed a dark red as he polished off the rest of the glass, eagerly holding it out for more. 

“Please, Victor, please?”

“When was the last time you enjoyed dancing onstage. Not the last time you danced, but the last time you did it because you loved it.”

“Uh,” Yuuri said. His brain scrambled for an answer as his glass slowly filled once more. “It's been a looong time,” he managed, frowning at the wine. “Ummm…” He swayed from side to side, kicking his heels against the cabinets. “Couple years after I first met Bradley. I -hic- think? I… it was kind of gradual, I guess. Sometimes it just didn’t have the same appeal. Eventually…. I forgot…” Yuuri mumbled. “Sometimes it was nice. Usually just made me anxious…”

Victor frowned. Yuuri hummed and drank another sip, swaying back and forth. The counter was cool on his thighs. It felt nice. Makkachin’s tail tickled his toes as she circled under him, sniffing out any scraps of food that might fall to the floor. 

“What about it made you anxious?” 

Yuuri gazed up at the ceiling. “Wasn’t ever good enough. What if I fucked it up? What if I didn’t do it right? Just… anxious…” Yuuri shrugged. It was simple. Anxiety didn’t make sense. It came and went and Yuuri had no control over it. 

“Let’s switch to something less morose. Do you like to cuddle?” Victor asked. 

Yuuri smiled. “Yess… sometimes…” He frowned to himself. “Sometimes no?” It was a difficult question to process with the way his head was swimming. Cuddling was something forbidden for so long. “I have _ needs _,” he insisted at last. “And Bradley -hic- Bradley didn’t- understand that.” Yuuri sulked. “Victoooor. Let’s cuddle!” 

He leapt to his feet, almost falling to the floor. Victor barely caught him. His long fingers pressed into Yuuri’s skin as he held Yuuri close, pressing deliciously into his hips. 

Yuuri purred happily. The air smelled so good from dinner, and Victor looked so handsome, and a puppy on the floor was wagging her tail. Yuuri was so, so happy. 

Victor chuckled and held Yuuri close, swaying them both softly. “So drunk Yuuri is a naked cuddlebug, then? Does sober Yuuri like cuddles, too?”

“Mmmmmm,” Yuuri hummed, happily agreeing. “Victor, promise to teach me to dance pretty.”

“I thought I was already doing that,” Victor laughed sweetly. His hands stroked up Yuuri’s side, and Yuuri visibly shivered. 

“Will you watch me?” Yuuri asked. “Please, watch me, watch only me! No one else!” He clutched at Victor’s apron, fury ripping through him. 

“Only you,” Victor swore. He was solemn enough to convince Yuuri for now. “Only ever you. I swear on my mother’s grave.”

Yuuri hummed and accepted the promise. The world was so fuzzy and soft like this, thoughts slipping away as soon as he came up with them. Everything had an ephemeral quality. 

His fingers sank deeper into the cloth of the apron, just holding Victor where he wanted him. “Good,” Yuuri said at last. “I don’t… don’t like to share…” He hiccuped loudly and flopped against the counter, releasing Victor at last. 

“Are you still mad at me?” Victor asked, fighting back a little laugh. Yuuri thought it through, but his mind was sluggish and the world felt too fuzzy on the edges to make much sense. “If I tell you that you never have to share again?”

“You’ll- You can only- only kill me, okay?” Yuuri said. He grabbed Victor’s face. “Okay? Only me and people I- hic- say are okay to kill.”

“Only you,” Victor agreed. He reached over to turn off the stove. Yuuri patted Victor’s broad chest happily. 

“I don’t ever touch aaanyone,” Yuuri complained. “You… you’re the only one... who wants to… When I want to,” he added as an afterthought.

“I’ll touch you as much as you want, Yuuri. Let’s get some food and water into you or your head will hurt terribly tomorrow.”

“Ngggh noooo,” Yuuri said. Victor beckoned him out of the kitchen and Yuuri stumbled along behind, grabbing the rest of the wine as he went. He liked the fuzzy feeling. At the edges of his memories were things he knew he should remember, but they all seemed so unimportant. 

Victor was eating already when Yuuri flopped down. He ate a bite of the sinfully delicious sautéed green beans, humming all the while. 

“What can I buy you that will make you happy?” Victor asked. “Since you won’t ever tell me sober.” 

Yuuri swallowed another few gulps of wine, but it had been replaced with water somehow. He stared at the bottle, baffled for a long minute. “I waaant…” he mused. “I want a pole. I miss pole dancing. My core was _ amazing _. I was… so strong…”

“I’ll have one installed as soon as possible,” Victor said. 

“Aaaand I want…” Yuuri thought long and hard. All the things he could have in the whole wide world. All the things forbidden. He had a dog, Victor promised a pole… Yuuri’s eyes went wide. “I- I didn’t realize. But… without Bradley, I can have toys again!”

“Toys?” Victor asked, cocking his head. He speared a mushroom on his fork and held it out for Yuuri to eat. Yuuri leaned forward and ate it with a hum. “What kind of toys?”

“Toys,” Yuuri echoed, once he finished chewing. “Like… a dildo. Cocksleeve. Bradley said it was cheeaaating.” He spat the word out distastefully. For someone who was cheating, he sure was scared Yuuri would cheat on him. Stupid Bradley. Stupid- stupid-

Yuuri opened his mouth like a bird, accepting another bite of food. The red meat was juicy and tender as he bit down. 

“Good boy, Yuuri,” Victor said warmly. “Eat up.” Tears brimmed in Yuuri’s eyes. Victor went pale. “What, what’s wrong, Yuuri?”

Yuuri sobbed. “You’re being so nice. Why are you so nice and taking care of me? I don’t deserve any of this.”

“Please don't cry,” Victor said, panicking. “You really do deserve this, I promise!”

“I’m a monster who won’t tell on you,” Yuuri sobbed. “Why am I like this? I trust you so, so, so much. I’m so scared. Victooor,” Yuuri moaned unhappily. 

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Victor murmured. He wiped Yuuri’s tears away. “Nothing on earth can make me stop treating you kindly. You’ve stolen my heart, my little dancer. Or should I call you a thief, pilfering the prince’s treasure?”

“I’m your pretty dancer,” Yuuri crooned. “Pretty… pretty…” He hiccuped from the sobs, but the tears were starting to slow down at last. “Safe inside the tower from Bradley. You’ll keep me safe?”

“You’re always safe,” Victor said. “Tower or not, you’re stronger than anything he can do to you.”

Yuuri sagged against Victor’s body. Dinner was mostly finished. Victor was so warm and soft. Yuuri rubbed his cheek against Victor’s shirt. “Victooor,” he crooned 

“I’m here,” Victor said. “So you want toys, do you? What kind of toys?”

“I had… a vibrator before… Bradley threw it out. I wanna touch myself. I don’t wanna be broken!” To emphasize his point, he shoved his hand into the panties, stroking his cock in his hand. He stayed soft. 

He stroked more frantically, but his cock was barely stirring. 

“Yuuri,” Victor said gently. “You’re too drunk to get it up right now.”

“But I can’t touch you sober!” Yuuri sobbed. “I try, and I try, and my brain won’t shut up and I can’t think think though the screaming inside my head. Please. Fuck me, Victor. Just once. Just one more time. Overwrite Bradley’s touch. I want to forget, I can’t take it anymore!”

Yuuri was faintly screaming now, almost losing his seat in his drunken mania. 

Victor’s eyes were soft. “Drink some water, Yuuri. For me?” Yuuri angrily drank more of the water. “I won’t touch you, not while you’re drunk. If you can’t even get hard, you certainly won’t be clearheaded enough to make a decision you won’t regret in the morning.”

Yuuri broke down with a sob. “I don’t get it. I don’t, I don’t. You’re always like this, and I just- I want- I want-“

“What do you want?” Victor asked. 

Yuuri clutched his head. “I want it to stop. I want it to make sense. It’s tearing me apart, and I- I just don’t know. I can’t go back in time, I can’t _ fix _any of the things I wish I could change. I wish Sara was alive, I wish I could forget Bradley, I wish I could stop living in fear. I want to know what to do. I want you to make me forget; I want to forget everything.”

Victor slowly reached out, so slowly that Yuuri could shrug him off, move away, or say a single word to stop him. He touched Yuuri’s cheek. Infinitely soft, he stroked the skin, wiping away tears. 

“I can’t make you forget. All the alcohol in the world can’t do that. You don’t have to forget, and you don’t have to forgive. But can you at least accept? There are things in this world that will never change. You can fight them, and only exhaust yourself for the effort. Or you can accept that it’s out of your control. Please, Yuuri, I hate seeing you upset like this. If I could make it better, I would.”

“I know, I know,” Yuuri said, shaking his head savagely. His vision swirled, and he almost fell off the couch and onto the floor. His head was aching. Victor passed him another glass of water. Yuuri eyed it warily and chugged, soothing the dryness of his throat. “I just… I want…” he sobbed quietly. 

Victor gently touched Yuuri’s back, rubbing soft circles as he shook and shuddered. “I know. Please, sober up just a little bit, and I’ll give you everything. I’ll give you the stars and the sky and anything else.”

Yuuri shook his head. “I don’t… I don’t want that. I just don’t want to be scared.” He fell back onto the couch. His whole body was so heavy. Yuuri could live the rest of his life right here, on this plush sofa. His belly was heavy with rich food, a little sloshy with the wine and water. 

“You don’t have to be strong all the time,” Victor murmured. “Sometimes you need to just lose control for a while. Ask me again when you’re a little more sober, and I’ll give whatever you want.”

Yuuri sleepily nodded, barely managing a hum before he fell asleep.

It was only a short while later that Yuuri woke again. His nap was brief enough to burn off some of the worst of the booze. It didn’t help much more than that. He stirred weakly, blinking at Victor. 

Victor sleepily stroked Yuuri’s hair, and Yuuri didn’t flinch away. 

Yuuri still vividly remembered every last moment of the dinner. It was almost better when he forgot, but there was still a chance of that. He groaned as he rolled on the couch. The flatscreen TV was almost muted, playing some movie Yuuri didn't recognize. “You promised… when I was sober.”

Victor hummed softly, blinking his eyes blearily. He seemed to have dozed off beside Yuuri, their bodies aligned. Victor frowned. “Alright. Recite the alphabet backwards.”

Yuuri glared balefully. “Come on, I couldn’t do that drunk or sober. There’s got to be a better test.” 

“Alright, alright,” Victor said, tapping his chin. “There's a different way. Stand up. Walk to the TV, heel to toe, and turn around. I’ll be the judge.”

Better. Yuuri hopped up. There was still a softness around the edges of his mind, but there was a clarity where there hadn't been before. He held his head up high, mustering all his grace to make his way across the room, placing his heels to his toes. He made it without stumbling, and turned back, making it back to Victor’s side easily enough.

“There, I did it,” Yuuri said. “I told you. I still want to forget, sober or drunk. I want to erase his touch. Take it all away from me, Victor… please. I don’t want touch to be something I can only do while drunk off my ass. I want to _ remember _.”

“As long as you’re aware of your choice. Do you still want to be tied up?” Victor asked. 

Yuuri hesitated, considering his options. At last, he nodded. His mind had been made up already, but saying the words aloud… “It just feels easier that way,” he admitted. 

Victor smiled. “Alright. Let’s get you ready, okay?”

Yuuri nodded tersely. He led the way to the bedroom, barely a sway in his step. Without waiting for Victor, he shed his underwear and socks, leaving himself nude on the bed sheets. It was comforting to have Victor circle around him, looping the soft ropes around his wrists and ankles. Victor pulled the bonds, holding Yuuri securely against the sheets. 

Yuuri hummed softly. There was still something soft and hazy in his mind, the last vestiges of alcohol seeping around his consciousness. But he was sober enough for this, he was absolutely certain. There was something so relaxing about this, about knowing this was a safe space where Yuuri could give, with the knowledge that he could end it at any time.

“How do you feel?” Victor asked, checking the ropes and making sure they wouldn’t pull to harshly on Yuuri’s skin.

“Good, good,” Yuuri murmured. “Can you check on Makkachin before we start? Just make sure she doesn’t need to use the bathroom?” 

Victor nodded and stepped out of the room. He was gone for several long minutes. And in the quiet, Yuuri was left to his thoughts.

He didn’t need to forgive Victor. He didn’t need to forget. Was it really so easy as acceptance?

Victor returned with a gentle touch to Yuuri’s calf. Yuuri hummed softly enough to acknowledge him. “Whenever you’re ready,” Yuuri said. “Make me forget everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've come full circle for Yuuri!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor and Yuuri make love. Yuuri has an unexpected visitor.

**June 30, 2019**

The first touch was the same as the other times, soft and just brushing against the skin of Yuuri’s ankles. Victor slowly eased his hands up. Yuuri’s muscles tensed, then relaxed with a certain pointed deliberateness. 

“Alright?” Victor asked. 

Yuuri nodded roughly. “You don’t have to check in on me. I can say something if you go too far.”

Victor snorted, amused at the comment. “Forgive me if I don’t believe you, Mr. Stubborn,” he said, easing his hand up the back of Yuuri’s thigh. Goosebumps raced along Yuuri’s skin, making the hair on the back of his neck rise. 

His whole body went tense with anticipation. “Relax,” Victor breathed. “You need to relax or it’ll hurt more than it should. Shhhh, relax, my Yuuri, my sweet Yuuri.”

He kept speaking in his gentle voice, soothing Yuuri until he could feel the tension unknit from Yuuri’s shoulders. It took several minutes for this to finally happen, Yuuri taking slow, deep breaths to calm his nerves. 

He shouldn’t be scared. He had no right to be scared. They had done this before, even. But this time, there was no stabbing Victor, there was no gun range. Yuuri let his limbs go limp in their bonds. 

Victor just kept rubbing Yuuri’s back in circles, humming little, soothing sounds. “Are you more relaxed?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri said. He closed his eyes. His heart raced, but he kept his body soft and relaxed with some effort. “Touch me, please, Victor, fuck me, fuck it all away-” Yuuri suddenly squeaked. Victor’s hand had slid down, cupping Yuuri’s bottom and giving it a sudden squeeze. 

“Let me make it clear,” Victor said gently. “I won’t fuck you.” Yuuri started to protest before Victor continued, “This isn’t a casual fuck or something to get your rocks off. For you and I, it’s more than that. So let’s make love, okay?” 

Yuuri’s heart swelled in his chest. Unshed tears threatened to spill down his cheeks, and he nodded, unable to speak. It was the first time Victor had said that word to him. Yuuri couldn’t breathe. “Y-yes,” he said at last, shaky. 

Victor smiled, ducking his head to leave a kiss on the small of Yuuri’s back. “I’m glad you agree. Hold still, I’m grabbing some lube.”

Yuuri held his breath as Victor pulled away, no longer touching Yuuri’s leg. The lack of contact sent chills prickling along his skin. Nervous energy curled inside him with the growing anticipation.

“Victor…” Yuuri breathed. He tossed his head back, finding Victor near the bedside drawer, pulling it open. 

“I’m here,” Victor said warmly. He pulled the bottle of lube out, then traced his fingers down Yuuri’s forearm. “Is this still alright?”

Yuuri flinched as the fingers moved, but at the same time, his body ached to feel more. He nodded quickly. “Yes, please. I’m ready. I know I am. I know how to end it.”

Mentally, he knew. Emotionally? Yuuri was less certain. He bit his tongue as Victor opened the lube, pouring it into his fingers with a squelch. There were slick, wet sounds as Victor warmed it between his fingers. “Bradley never warmed it up when he used lube,” Yuuri muttered. 

“Chadley must not know how good warm lube feels compared to cold. Have you ever felt lube that rested in some warm water for a while before sex? It’s all hot and slick… feels good…”

Yuuri felt shivers even down his arms and neck, just thinking about the warmth that would spread through him. “Mmm… sounds nice…”

Victor parted Yuuri’s cheeks with a soft touch. Anticipation left an emptiness in his chest, seizing with a sudden rush of raw fear. 

It was so many things at once, and Yuuri gasped, panting out, “wait, please… give me a moment. Just one second,” he said. 

Victor made a soft sound of acknowledgement, and Yuuri closed his eyes. Of course he was scared with that same animal instant that had him shying away from touch. It was practically Pavlovian, the suggestion of sex coupling with a deep revulsion for everything Bradley had done to him. 

There was a fear of Victor, even now, even with all the promises and proof. Victor seemed committed to them being something better together than either of them could be apart. But what if he messed up? 

And then, despite Yuuri’s best efforts, there was something almost virginal in his fears. He’d had sex before, craved it like anyone else. But being here in this position, tied down and so vulnerable yet so safe, wreaked havoc on his senses. Sex for pleasure’s sake, not an means to an end, seemed so far out of reach. Even now, it was to purge thoughts of Bradley from his mind. 

But what if, one day, it wasn’t like that? What if it was something for mutual bliss? Shivers prickled down Yuuri’s naked spine. He sucked in a slow breath, nodding. Too much to expect now. If he wanted to move forward… was there any way to do that by looking back? Yuuri shook himself, not willing to consider this now. 

“Okay, let's do it. Make love to me Victor.”

Yuuri sucked down more shaky breaths as Victor’s touch returned to his skin. The warm, wet finger pressed softly against his entrance, rubbing slow circles without dipping inside just yet. He groaned low, toes already curling. 

“Shhh, relax,” Victor murmured. “My goal is not to hurt you.”

“Just have faith in me,” Yuuri said softly. He winced as Victor stroked over the furled muscle, a tiny thrill racing through him despite his nerves. “Trust in me more than I do in myself.”

“I know you can do this. Trust isn’t an issue. I don’t-” Victor broke off. 

Yuuri shifted in the bed slightly, as much as he could within his bonds. Victor wore a distant expression on his face. The downturn of his lip, the furrow of his brow, it all made him look softer than anytime Yuuri had seen before. “What’s the matter?”

“I don’t want to hurt you. My father hurt my mother, and Chadley hurt you. I want so, so badly for us to be better than that, better than them. I don’t want to be another turn in a cycle for us both. You’re something so deeply special to me, Yuuri, and I don’t know how to explain the feeling I get around you.”

Yuuri stared at the sheets, silent. Listening. Thinking. 

“Believe me or don’t. This is something that matters to me, Yuuri. What tiny bits of trust you have in me, I want to protect and nurture. I want to be yours, and I want you to say you’re mine, that you accept the things I have done. But I don’t want it to be just another monster in your life, hurting you because you wish to hurt yourself.”

There were tears in Yuuri’s eyes. His voice was rough when he finally spoke, “I… I see,” he whispered. His fists clenched. “But this is so much different. This is something I asked for. This is something I want. Even if it hurts a little, nothing worth anything comes perfectly painlessly. I’ve danced for long enough to know that. That’s what trust is about. I know… that sometimes I am not the best judge of what’s best for me. I admit it.”

All those long hours, day and night, breaking his body in a dance studio, spoke volumes. Staying with Bradley because it was easier than leaving. Folding paper animals because he couldn’t stop dwelling in the past, in happier times. Using sex as self harm. Maybe he hurt himself too many times. But this…

“I trust you to give me only what I need, okay? So trust that I can take it. I want to be free of Bradley, wholly and completely. I want to feel like my body is mine again. So please… touch me, Victor. Make me feel good, please?” He asked in a small voice, almost afraid of the answer, no matter how unreasonable the fear was. 

“Always,” Victor assured him. The finger returned to Yuuri’s backside, petting his entrance and coating it in slick lube. “Deep breath, my Yuuri.”

Yuuri sucked in a breath as Victor’s finger finally breached him, the tip slipping through the tight ring of muscle to stroke at his insides. He whined low in his throat at the small stretch, the alien feeling. It bore down deeper inside him, withdrawing and then pressing inside slowly once more. 

Victor worked on him with a slow, gentle urgency. Not rushing, still taking his sweet time to tease Yuuri’s body into accepting his slender finger inside, but he didn’t stop with every whisper and whine that slipped from Yuuri’s throat. 

Which was, honestly, perfect. Victor could hear the whines, stroking Yuuri’s thigh gently and pressing a kiss to Yuuri’s hip when the intrusion grew uncomfortable, but he didn’t stop the slow thrusts. He pressed two inside without interrupting his steady pace. 

Yuuri took to the wider fingers with a shallow huff. Not unpleasant, by any means, but something to adjust to. It had been so long since he’d been fucked, properly fucked- no, made love to. So, so long. As the wet slide of Victor’s fingers took on more friction, Victor quickly warmed more lube and pressed back inside, slicking the walls of Yuuri’s body until they were velvety soft and dripping wet, soft and open. 

“How does that feel?” Victor asked. 

Yuuri hummed softly. He could feel himself hanging from the ropes, his limbs limp and his mind a thousand miles away. He was drifting and distant and it was nice, in ways he couldn’t put into words. “Good…”

“Words, please, my Yuuri,” Victor said, smiling. 

“It’s really good,” Yuuri managed, letting out a kittenish squeak as Victor scissored his fingers inside. “I… didn’t expect you to be so gentle…”

“The last time hurt you,” Victor said. “I don’t want a repeat. I want only pleasure.” And with that, he tipped his fingers inside Yuuri, seeking out the nerve cluster he knew would be just a little deeper inside. 

He brushed it once, just with the very tips, and Yuuri’s breath slipped out in a short gasp, his eyes fluttering closed. “There- please- more-”

Victor acquiesced, driving his fingers in with more pointed thrusts until he found it, striking it with his fingers hard enough to make Yuuri jerk in the ties. 

“Aah! Victor!” he cried out, and Victor began to thrust his fingers with more purpose. He focused on that point as he continued to watch Yuuri relax around him. 

It rushed upon him, fire coiling in his body and pooling in his groin. All his muscles went tense in anticipation. He could feel it dancing on the edge of his senses, just out of reach. He was going to cum. 

“Victor, ah, close,” Yuuri gasped, his cock twitching valiantly from where it was pinned beneath him. “I need-”

Victor reached under with his free hand, tugging Yuuri’s cock out so it pointed downward, pinned against the mattress under Yuuri’s scrotum. He stroked down the length, smoothing his fingers over the skin of Yuuri’s balls and slicking the length with the lube leftover on his hands. 

Yuuri was twisted up with bliss, trying to writhe as he was pleasured front to back by Victor’s careful hands. “Close, close!” he begged. 

Victor pushed him over the edge with a firm thrust of his fingers, burying them deep in Yuuri’s ass at the same time that he bowed his head, pulling Yuuri’s cock between his lips. 

Heat enveloped his cock, so wonderful and hot and wet as it closed around him. A sinful tongue swiped along the length. Yuuri sobbed as he came, spilling messily into Victor’s mouth, so much coming out of him. It was a testament to his time without such pleasures, that he was so deeply affected by this small token of pleasure. His body was still trembling as Victor pulled off his cock with a wet pop. 

Victor made a show of licking his lips, pulling his fingers out and leaving Yuuri wracked with overstimulated bliss. “Vkusno,” he said. “You taste delicious, Yuuri, salty like tears and fresh oysters.”

“You… swallowed?” Yuuri said, squinting. “I don’t even swallow when Bradley makes me suck him off. He tastes disgusting.” 

Victor caught a stray white smear from his lower lip and held it near Yuuri’s mouth. “You’re welcome to try yourself. Everyone tastes differently, of course, but to me, you taste sinfully divine.”

Yuuri closed his eyes and took the finger between his lips, sucking the cum off with a short swipe of his tongue. It was more mild than he expected, a little acrid, but mostly thick and salty. He didn’t see what would be “sinfully divine” about it.

“You don’t see it, do you? It feels like I can taste your pleasure, your fear, your rawest desires. I want to devour you inside and out. It’s like an aphrodisiac to me,” Victor said with a soft laugh. 

He toyed with Yuuri’s entrance again, earning a shaky, mewling gasp from Yuuri. 

“Still so sensitive…” Victor crooned. 

Yuuri huffed. “Are you going to fuck me or not?”

“Ready to go again so soon? I suppose it makes sense; your stamina is unrivaled in the studio, so of course your sexual desires would be just as difficult to fully slake. If you’re ready?”

Yuuri nodded. Victor unbuttoned his trousers first, stepping out of them and tossing them aside. The shirt followed. Yuuri’s body was so heavy and soft after his orgasm that he didn’t even flinch as the clothes hit the floor. 

The bed creaked as Victor placed a knee beside Yuuri, using the headboard to steady himself. He threw a leg over Yuuri’s thighs, straddling him from the back. His weight bore down on Yuuri’s body. 

Yuuri was breathless. He could feel Victor’s thighs against his own, the hard line of Victor’s cock still clothed in tight underwear against his backside. Fabric rustled as these were pulled aside. 

The cap cracked on the lube, slicking over Victor’s cock with muffled, wet sounds. Anticipation built up inside Yuuri once more, his heart going crazy. His pulse was almost deafening in his ears. Tears pricked in the corner of his eyes. 

He sobbed silently into the sheets, unable to bear the crashing waves of fear that threatened to overwhelm him. He hated being scared and he hated how much he wanted this and he hated the fact that he wanted Victor more than he wanted anything else. 

He hung there, soft and limp in the ropes, sobbing softly as Victor pressed lines of kisses up his spine. He hated it. He wanted it. Victor’s cock pressed against his entrance. There was a moment of silence, the whole world waiting with baited breath for this exact second. 

Victor’s hips rolled. The blunt head of his cock pressed inside, and Yuuri let out a guttural near-scream into the pillow. Victor clutched at Yuuri’s ass, rolling the meat of the cheeks in his hands. “Is this okay? Is this what you want, my sweet Yuuri?” Victor asked, pausing with his cock tucked snugly between Yuuri’s asscheeks.

The head of Victor’s cock seemed to pulse, so much bigger than Yuuri remembered from before. Even with the prep, his body seemed to fight the idea of being split open on another cock, and he seized in shock. Yuuri struggled to catch his breath. 

“Yuuri?” Victor murmured. The softness broke through Yuuri’s panic, just like cool water on flushed skin. Yuuri gasped. His hands curled into fists and then flexed outward, fingers splayed apart as he struggled to accept what Victor had to give him. 

“I’m okay,” Yuuri rasped. It was more to himself than anything else. “I’m fine, I’m okay, I can take it.”

“My sweet Yuuri,” Victor crooned. “I have never doubted that. Take a deep breath, let me in. Let me wash all of _ him _ away. Can I replace it with kisses and soft touches? Can I fill you with my adoration, and drink up your beauty in turn? Say the words for me, Yuuri. Can I make love to you?”

“Make love to me, Victor,” Yuuri begged. “I can’t take it anymore.” Victor thrust in without a word, a few more inches of his cock sliding in easily as a dream. Yuuri’s body relented at last, relaxing enough to let Victor split him open, fill him inside and out. Yuuri cried out softly.

But Victor wasn’t finished yet, still rolling his hips, all the while kneading his palms over Yuuri’s plush thighs and bottom. He sank in deeper, deeper, reaching places inside that his fingers had only dreamed of reaching.

Victor used the bonds holding Yuuri still, pulling out and snapping his hips forward. Yuuri let out a shaky, hungry moan as Victor started to develop a rhythm that rocked him inside and out. Yuuri was left a shaky puddle under the pleasure. 

Victor’s cock plunged inside him, sending spirals of heat radiating through Yuuri’s body. Every breath came with another shaky gasp, stuttered out between thrusts. 

Victor’s voice trembled as he moaned, “Yuuri, my Yuuri, my beautiful Yuuri…” He was affected deeply, and the sound of Victor lost in his own pleasure had a redoubling effect on Yuuri. And maybe it was the shudder in Victor’s own breath that made Yuuri’s heart race a little faster. 

Victor scoured away at the marks in Yuuri’s brain, and it wasn’t enough. It would never be _ enough _to make Yuuri forget. He wanted so badly to purge it from his mind. Victor’s hands skimmed up Yuuri’s waist, his kisses sucking eagerly up Yuuri’s back and shoulders. 

He cradled Yuuri in his arms, desperately moaning Yuuri’s name, and Yuuri wasn’t unaffected. The heat in his face rose, and his own pleasure bubbled up as Victor shifted his hips, slamming against Yuuri’s prostate. 

Stars danced across Yuuri’s vision. He couldn’t muffle the shocked sound of pleasure that slipped out of him, the frantic moan of _ “oh god Victor do-that-again-” _ as it raced through him. 

He sobbed as Victor started to nail that spot repeatedly, the wet slap of skin filling the air. He still drew pleasure for himself, but seemed to seek it out in Yuuri as well, until Yuuri was incoherent beneath him. “Yuuri, Yuuri, ah, Yuuri-” Victor’s breath was hot and heavy in his ear. 

He was right on a razor’s edge, dancing there on that line between bliss and terror. 

This was to cleanse away that fear. This was to forget the things that had haunted him for so long. This was Yuuri’s chance to find pleasure once more. 

He cocked his hips up, presenting himself better. He was almost unable to bear the new sensations boiling inside him. “Victor- I can’t- I have to- aaah!”

“Cum,” Victor begged. “Please, I’m close too. I want to feel you cum around me.” Victor’s fingers wrapped around Yuuri’s cock, giving it a few tugs to slick it in lube. The circle of his fingers tightened. Yuuri threw back his head, utterly lost in the throes of his pleasure. 

Victor stroked him off the way Yuuri couldn’t, all those long weeks ago, gently, but insistent in the pressure. He synced each stroke with his own thrusts until Yuuri couldn’t decide if he should fuck down into the hand or rock back into Victor’s thrusts. 

He didn’t have to make that choice, because Victor bit down on Yuuri’s shoulder, not so hard as to draw blood, but a firm pressure of his teeth that made Yuuri spill with a shattered cry. 

“Mmph, ah,” Victor groaned. He dragged his tongue over the skin, sucking at the bite to soothe the pulse Yuuri could feel pounding against the skin. Victor’s hips stuttered as Yuuri’s muscles shuddered around his cock. 

The perfect, regular pace grew irregular, Victor’s breaths almost gasping and desperate. “Let go,” Yuuri breathed. “Just cum inside me.”

Victor sucked in a harsh breath as it hit him. A flood of his release filled Yuuri. Yuuri could feel it splashing inside him, short, dense jets of seminal fluid filling him with every pulse of Victor’s cock. Yuuri moaned softly as Victor’s weight pressed down on him, Victor panting hard. 

The feeling of Victor pulling out was unpleasant, after being so full of Victor’s cock, and Yuuri whined as he was left empty. He laid limp on the sheets, wrung out, exhausted, but feeling a degree of relief. 

Maybe it was purely mental, but he felt cleansed of something Bradley had held over him for too long. He didn’t feel unlovable. He didn’t feel like he didn’t have a choice. Yuuri felt… free. 

Victor loosened the ties on Yuuri’s wrists and ankles, but Yuuri didn’t move much except to pull his arms in and tug Victor closer. 

A rush of happy chemicals in his brain made him hungry to cuddle, and Victor would be his more-than-willing victim. They laid on the mattress, their breath the only sound in the air, save for the quiet whimpers of a puppy who wanted to be let out from her kennel and be with her dads. 

Yuuri smiled softly. “Thank you,” he murmured. He touched his shoulder, unsettled by the mark, but… it was not entirely unpleasant. There was a tiny level of feral satisfaction. 

Victor’s eyes went wide. “I’m sorry, I should have asked if I could leave a mark, especially after-”

“It’s not like the marks Bradley left,” Yuuri insisted. “Bradley’s bruises… they were made with hate. We made love, didn’t we? I… kind of like hickeys, when they’re not accompanied by actual bruises.”

Victor kissed him until he was dizzy. “My Yuuri, my sweet Yuuri… come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

“Mmm…” Yuuri hummed. Victor scooped him into his arms, carrying him to the bathroom. Yuuri sat on the edge of the tub, his feet resting in the water as it slowly filled. His eyelids were heavy. Two orgasms had taken a toll on him, leaving him sleepy and soft. 

Victor was talking, but Yuuri could only hear one word out of every four, and he hummed a song under his breath until the water bubbled up over his calves, thick and sweet with an herbed bubble bath. 

Yuuri stretched out his arms. “Join me?”

Victor smiled. “How can I resist?” he asked. He stepped in, guiding Yuuri down into the water between his legs, using Victor’s chest as a back rest. The water was warm, heaven on his skin. “How do you feel?”

“Good…” Yuuri murmured dreamily. “So… so… good. Like I’m floating away…”

“Float as much as you need,” Victor said. He poured a little handful of water onto Yuuri’s scalp. Yuuri hummed. 

“Was it good? Was I good?” he asked. 

“The best,” Victor assured him. “On both counts. I’ve never felt so turned on in my life. You were simply stunning. Did you enjoy it?”

“Mmmm,” Yuuri agreed. “Felt… so free…”

The bathtub had a cozy intimacy that was almost too much for Yuuri, but the screaming was silent after his orgasms, and his brain was soft, fuzzy mush. Perfection, like being addled with alcohol but without the hangover. 

“Thank you… Victor…” Yuuri said softly. 

Victor kissed the crown of his head. “You’re absolutely welcome, sweet Yuuri.”

* * *

**July 1, 2019**

The night passed in blissful peace. Yuuri was toweled off, and he dressed himself in one of Victor’s slightly-too-big-for-Yuuri athleisure shirts. They took care of Makkachin for the evening. When it was time to go to bed, They held each other, curled cozily around one another and cuddling as they slept. 

The bed was cold when Yuuri awoke. He rose slowly. Victor worked today again, and Yuuri yawned as he pulled on a pair of underwear. 

He took Makkachin outside, gave her breakfast, and spent the morning dancing in the studio, letting her chase his toes as he spun and leapt. In the afternoon, they played on the floor until Makkachin was worn out and flopped down, ready for a nap. Yuuri placed her in her kennel, doggy bed and all, to let her have some down time. 

He stretched. His body was a little sore from the previous night, but only in a pleasant way. There was only a soft, gentle ache where usually there was pain. Perhaps Yuuri would be free of his scars one day. 

It didn’t change him overnight. He didn’t magically forget everything Bradley had done to him, but it had felt a little freeing. He had taken his first few steps away from the trauma Bradley had given him.

Who knew when he’d be free of it? But at least Bradley’s jail sentence, no matter how short, would give Yuuri a chance to try. 

He played games for a while, but soon this was less occupying for his mind than he expected. Yuuri sighed and paused the game, setting it aside. He flopped onto his back. It was hard to focus. Victor would be home in an hour or so, and that was exciting. 

He dozed slightly, the world peaceful and quiet and soft. Even his mind was quiet for once, almost in a state of meditative peace as he relaxed on the bed. The whisper of the air conditioner hummed. 

Far below, Yuuri heard a tinkling crash, then another, louder one. His eyes snapped open, and he fumbled for the remote, quickly finding the video feeds of the house. He scrolled while he locked the bedroom door, grabbing his phone. A cold sweat broke out on his skin. 

It sounded like someone had broken in, but that would be ridiculous, surely. What kind of moron broke into Victor Nikiforov’s house? 

Finally, Yuuri found movement on one of the cameras. His heart stopped dead in his chest, a strangled cry escaping him before he could stifle it. He couldn’t scroll through his phone fast enough. His eyes landed on Victor’s name, programmed into the phone, and Yuuri smashed it with his thumb. He was hysterical. “Victor!”

“Yuuri? Yuuri, what’s going on?” Victor asked, alarmed. 

“He’s here!” Yuuri was almost unable to speak, his voice shaking. “Why is he here? What do I do? Fuck, Victor, fuck!”

“Yuuri, stay calm! Who’s there? Is someone in the house?”

“Bradley,” Yuuri whispered, eyes wide as there was a sudden pounding on the bedroom door. “Bradley’s here.”

The pounding on the door grew louder. “Yuuu-ri! I hear you in there!” Bradley’s voice carried, slurring and angry. The pounding paused, only to began again. 

Victor’s voice was harsh and urgent in his ear. “Yuuri, I’m calling the police with my landline, just hold on, is the door locked?”

“It’s locked! It’s locked!” Yuuri gasped. His breath fluttered frantically. He wheezed, trying to stay calm. He pulled the phone from his ear. “What the fuck are you doing here?” he screamed. “Are you crazy? 

“Open up, Yuuri! I wanna talk to -hic- you and that rat bastard Victor!”

“You’re not talking to anyone. Just get out of here!” He found a spark of confidence in the camera feed. 

Bradley was staggering up and down the hall, angrily pacing and stumbling down drunk. This was all recorded. Bradley violated the terms of bail, and Yuuri would have been giddy, if not for the raw rush of fear pulsing through his veins. Bradley left the door, and Yuuri sucked down breaths, trying to calm down.

“Stay with me, Yuuri,” Victor said. “Are you okay? Are you safe? I’m driving home as fast as I can, police are on the way, and we can give them the video. You just have to say safe until help arrives. 

“Victor, he’s angry and drunk, he’s- oh god. Oh fuck-” As Yuuri spoke, Bradley walked back through the broken window, returning to the locked door with a heavy-looking metal axe. 

Yuuri’s voice pitched up in terror. “He’s got an axe, he’s going to bust down the door-”

“You can’t hide forever!” Bradley bellowed. He brought his arms back. 

“Brad- Bradley, no!” Yuuri screamed as he started to swing. 

“I’m going to kill you!” The door shuddered as the axe struck. Wood splintered, but didn’t give just yet. He swung again, again, the room shuddering with each new attack. “You little slut, how dare you fuck that man, fucking cheating on me, how _ dare you!_”

“You cheated on me! I told you we were over!” Yuuri screamed, flinching back as he saw the first splinters of wood on his side of the door. 

“You _ fucked _him, didn’t you?” Bradley screamed back. “I should have known the first time I saw you make goo goo eyes at him at the gala, you little whore! I could see it all over his face! I won’t stand for it! If I can’t have you, he certainly can’t!”

“You’re crazy!” Yuuri glanced around the room. He backed toward the studio as the splintered door began to give. Bradley’s fist burst through the door, unlocking it like something out of The Shining. 

Bradley staggered through, righteous indignation and fury painting his face in crimson strokes. Yuuri bolted for the studio, making it through in time to lock the door. Bradley screamed again, redoubling his attack on the new door. 

Yuuri just had to buy time. It was a long drive from the city to Victor’s house, but surely it wouldn’t take that long? How long would it take? Police were there instantly at Bradley’s apartment-

Yuuri screamed as the axe broke through the thinner door. He shoved the chair against it, desperate to buy time. Bradley unlocked the door the same as the first, kicking it open with impunity. “Hey, babe,” Bradley spat. 

Yuuri couldn’t breathe. 

Bradley moved forward, holding the axe like a weapon. Yuuri braced himself, gripping his little knife tight in his hands. He lunged, barely dodging a swing from the axe. He managrd to get in a scrape over Bradley’s skin, only to be caught with a glancing blow to the forehead from the back of the axe. 

The world spun. Yuuri hit the ground and wheezed, everything hazing to black for a brief second. He was going to die. Bradley grabbed his hair and dragged him from the room, hurling him onto the bed.

“I’m gonna kill you,” Bradley spat. “You fucking whore. I’m gonna kill you, but first, I’m gonna fuck you one more time, so you never forget who gave you _ everything _ ! Who put up with your _ bullshit _for SO GODDAMN LONG!”

Yuuri lashed out, trying to attack, but he was dazed, and Bradley was stronger in his state of raw fury. Bradley ripped the soft yoga pants from his legs, the pretty lacy panties Yuuri had never bothered to replace.

“You sure are living the good life now, aren’t you? Putting out for a living legend? Does he make you suck his cock? Or does he just fuck you against this headboard here? Nice hickey, babe. Spread your legs for me, I’ll make this quick.”

Yuuri kicked and flailed, only to be seized by the throat. He went still. The air left his lungs, and he couldn’t even scream, could barely squeak out his fear. The fingers on his neck began to seize closed, tightening like a vice. He couldn’t get a breath. His head swam. He had to get free, had to slip away somehow-

He shoved and pushed, but he couldn’t get any leverage. He couldn’t find the strength to break free, and everything grew hazier and hazier by the second. 

Yuuri brought his legs up, wrapping them around Bradley’s head. He used the leverage to throw them both to the side. Air flooded his lungs and he lunged for the knife. Bradley slammed him into the headboard, choking Yuuri again. 

Yuuri saw stars. He thrust his hand out blindly. The knife was on the floor, so far away. His hand bumped the bedside table. 

Yuuri yanked the drawer open, thrusting his hand blindly inside, just searching, feeling, so desperate that his brain refused to work. 

He touched something cold. 

A deafening crack ripped the air, and the hands on his neck fell away. Yuuri’s chest seized, and he gasped for air, sobbing and screaming. Blood covered his body. 

Bradley’s eyes were glazed and empty. Blood spurted from the bullet wound in his temple, painting Yuuri’s battered and bruised body in liquid crimson and heat. He couldn’t stop screaming and sobbing. 

Everything went dark, and the gun fell from his hands. Bradley’s limp body landed on top of him, then rolled to the floor. Yuuri just kept screaming. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)))


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath.

_ Yuuri _

_ Yuuri, can you hear me? Yuuri? _

_ “ _Yuuri? Yuuri, please calm down!”

There were dozens of people in the room, and Yuuri was insensate to them all. He sank into awareness already screaming, thrashing, fighting to get away. “Don’t touch me- don’t- I don’t want it- stop!” he screamed. 

A hand brushed his cheek, urgent but endlessly soft. Victor’s face was there. “Yuuri, you’re safe. I’m here, you’re okay. Are you hurt?”

“I- he- Bradley-” Yuuri sputtered. His eyes were wide, and he finally looked around. Bradley was motionless on the floor, a pool of blood slowly spilling out from a hole in his forehead. Yuuri almost threw up, and he clutched his mouth as the smell hit him. 

They were surrounded by police officers. Yuuri recognized a few from his last trip to the station. “Oh fuck, oh my god, I killed him,” Yuuri sobbed. “I didn’t mean to- I was so scared-”

“It’s okay, shhh. Breathe,” Victor urged. Yuuri struggled to suck in a breath, his whole body shaking violently. Victor looked over to the officers. “I have security cameras throughout my house. I can give you the recordings for the entire afternoon.”

“That would be helpful, thank you,” said one officer, coming around to approach Yuuri. Yuuri swallowed back his frenzied sobs, trying to calm himself. “Are you alright? Did he hurt you? What happened here?”

“I was just- I was playing a game,” Yuuri said. He looked at the game console broken on the floor, sitting in a puddle of blood. 

Voice shaking, he explained everything that had happened, recounting it all from calling Victor to the moment Bradley’s hands wrapped around his throat. “He was screaming he was going to kill me- he was going to rape me and kill me-”

Fury flashed in Victor’s eyes and Yuuri swallowed his own panic. 

“I tried to get away, but I couldn’t- I had no choice-”

“Does this gun belong to you?” An officer raised the familiar pistol, holding it carefully in her gloved hands. Yuuri shook his head. 

“It’s mine,” Victor said smoothly. “I can give you all the licensing and registration for it. I keep it for emergencies. I was teaching Yuuri how to use it safely, and kept it up here in case of break ins. I store the rest of my guns downstairs. As you can see, my fears were not unfounded. Yuuri’s safety is my primary concern.”

Everything was distant and white. Yuuri was half deaf to many of the questions that were asked, taking several prompts to reply to even simple yes or no questions. He couldn’t look away from Bradley’s corpse as pictures were taken and evidence tagged. 

The police took many photos of the blooming bruises on Yuuri’s skin. Yuuri watched them move Bradley’s corpse into one of the ambulances and drive away without the sirens. Taking it away to the morgue. 

Victor unhooked the little box from the bedroom to bring down to the living room. Yuuri needed help to follow down the stairs, dizziness making him walk like a drunk. They were finally moving away from everything, and Yuuri felt like he could breathe slightly easier away from the gruesome sight. 

Victor ignored the blood entirely, carrying Yuuri to the sofa despite the red smearing over his nice suit. “I’m sorry, Yuuri. Can you stand for us to play back the events of the afternoon?”

Yuuri nodded, silent as Victor reconnected the box and set it to play from the moment the downstairs window first shattered. Yuuri shut his eyes as his onscreen self screamed. He couldn’t listen or watch. Victor held him close. Yuuri sank into his grip. He was shaking violently. 

The officers nodded as it finished. “Can we take this with us?” one asked. 

Victor beckoned them to go right ahead. “It only saves the last couple days or so of video before overwriting it, but I believe it doesn’t dump the cache if it isn’t recording more. Still, better to save it to a hard drive immediately.”

“We’ll take care of it,” the officer assured them. “There’s no need to take you into custody at the moment, but we will keep you informed about proceedings.”

“I have a lawyer that I can send along as well,” Victor added crisply. “Hopefully this is cut and dry. I’m no legal expert but I find it hard to believe this isn’t a case of justifiable homicide.”

Yuuri was silent as they continued talking. All he could hear were those words, again and again in his head. _ He wasn’t being arrested. _

Eventually, onscene first responders came to check on Yuuri, leading him outside. Victor returned upstairs long enough to get a couple changes of clothes for them both, and then helped them ease Yuuri down the stairs, sitting him down on the back of the ambulance. Victor held his hand as they were taken away. Yuuri couldn’t stop shaking.

It took several hours for Yuuri to be fully poked, prodded, scanned, examined, and cleaned of blood. During that time, Yuuri slowly regained some more lucidity. “I’m not going to jail,” he whispered, still in shock.

“I’ve already called my lawyers, they’re going to make sure you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“I killed a man,” Yuuri gaped. “I killed Bradley. How am I not going to jail?” Yuuri choked on his own words, feeling the panic creeping back in. 

“My lawyers are looking into it. But I would be shocked if this wasn’t a case of justifiable homicide, no one can fault you for defending yourself. He was stupid enough to get himself caught on camera, threatening your life and safety.”

Yuuri was silent. It was so hard to process. He started to laugh, painfully and loudly and a little deranged. Victor looked startled. Yuuri wiped away a tear. “Ironic, isn’t it? That you’re who you are, that no one knows the truth but me, but _ I’m _the one who killed Bradley, and everyone knows.”

“I’m sorry,” Victor said. He bowed his head. His chair was pulled up beside Yuuri’s hospital bed, and he held Yuuri’s hand. “If I was there, I would have protected you. I failed you, Yuuri. I couldn’t keep you safe. I couldn’t keep him from hurting you again.” 

Victor tapped the tip of his finger to the underside of Yuuri’s chin, prompting Yuuri to tilt his head up. He studied Yuuri’s neck with a deep frown. Yuuri took Victor’s hand in his own. 

“I don’t know _ that _…” Yuuri said. With his free hand, he drew small circles on the plain hospital sheets. He looked away. “You were the one who told me to put a bullet in someone’s head before I let them hurt me. You taught me how to use a gun. I might be dead, if not for that. I would have been raped again, at the very least.”

He looked Victor in the eye once more, meeting Victor’s heavy gaze. 

“You could say… you did save me, in the end,” Yuuri murmured. “At least… that’s how I see it.” Victor’s eyes went wide. 

The doctor came in, briefing over the results they’d found. The worst of it was shock, they said. He was cleared quickly enough by the doctors. Aside from some bruises and a mild concussion, Yuuri would be fine. 

A police officer arrived shortly after, debriefing a few more points before Victor and Yuuri could leave. At this point, Yuuri was not going to be held in police custody. Cut and dry indeed. But until everything was cleaned up, they would need to stay close by to answer any more questions. 

“Crime scene cleanup should be by at some point,” the officer said at last. “We’ve gotten all the evidence we need. Don’t leave the country.” The officer rattled off a few more things, but Yuuri felt deaf, for all he heard them. He grabbed for Victor’s hand, finding comfort in the way it squeezed his own. 

He followed Victor in a daze. The officer escorted them out. Yuuri wore a pair of soft, clean leggings and a T-shirt Victor had grabbed on the way out. They drove home in almost pure silence. They left the city behind. 

When they got home, Yuuri walked upstairs, lured like something in a dream was calling him up. He stopped in the doorway of the bedroom. 

The room was filthy, all the pretty decor painted in streams of drying blood. Crime scene cleaners hadn’t arrived yet, and from the way the officer had spoken, it could even take until tomorrow to get a crew in to work. 

Yuuri knelt at the edge of a blood puddle. He dipped a finger in. It was ice cold, starting to dry where it was thinnest. The smell of metal filled the room. 

“He’s gone….” Yuuri murmured. He could see the shape on the carpet where Bradley had fallen. He could see the spot on the bed where the blood had began to spurt. “I never have to worry again. I don’t have to be scared. I… I killed him.” 

“How do you feel?” Victor asked. 

“I don’t know yet… I’m still processing it, honestly. It doesn’t feel real yet. I keep reliving that moment in my mind. I keep seeing Bradley falling back, and…”

“How did it feel?” Victor asked in a hushed tone. “To take his life. How did you feel?”

Yuuri sucked in a shaky breath. He pressed his palm flat into the coppery blood. He stood and clenched his fist. “The moment I pulled that trigger… I felt... powerful. God, so fucking powerful. Like I could never be scared, not ever again. That probably sounds stupid-” Yuuri rubbed his cheek, wincing as he got blood on his face. He’d need another shower. 

Victor's breath caught. “No,” he whispered. “Not at all.”

Yuuri looked at him. Victor’s eyes were dark, his trousers tented between his legs. Aroused. Yuuri bit his lip. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. Victor reached out, tentatively running his finger over the smear of red on Yuuri’s cheek. 

The room was too big, too much, and then suddenly too small as Yuuri tipped his head up, scarcely able to breathe. “Victor…” Yuuri breathed. Victor’s breath fanned over his lips. 

Too close. He jerked his head away. Too much, too fast, he shouldn’t- he couldn’t- 

Vertigo hit him as he whipped his head back around. He stumbled to right himself, foot falling on the edge of the puddle. His balance slipped. He landed hard in the middle of it all, splashing up on his arms and knees and face like a macabre rain puddle. 

“Yuuri, are you alright? You’re all bloody again.”

Yuuri winced. The congealed blood was slimy and gross on his skin. Victor offered him a hand out of the mess, and Yuuri accepted it. “I’m fine. Better than fine,” Yuuri said. He shook his head. He’d just take another shower, what mattered was this feeling he got, with the blood clinging to his skin. 

Shivers raced up and down his spine. He glanced at Victor. 

“You know… I always thought I was the Sylphide, destined to die. Or perhaps I was James, and I would lose you before you could even teach me a different life than what Bradley gave me. But I’m free. The past is meaningless. I… I never had a future before… and it feels…”

Yuuri’s breath hitched. 

“It feels… so good. I feel free. But… I also think…” He sucked down a sharp breath to steady his nerves. He lifted his chin once more, determined not to shy away again. “Victor…” He reached up, cradling Victor’s cheek. 

The blood was stark on Victor’s fair skin. He was so beautiful, an avenging angel with lust burning bright in his blue eyes. Yuuri didn’t feel fear. Wasn’t he the same as Victor now? Snuffing out life just like _ that? _

He couldn’t forget the past. He couldn’t forgive it. But the future was tangible, something real and possible now. A knot formed in Yuuri’s throat. He was seized by impulse, and he didn’t want to give himself the chance to hesitate or overthink. 

“I accept you,” he whispered, closing his eyes. He stretched on his toes, pressing his lips softly against Victor’s.

At first, Victor was motionless, so startled that he could only suck in a soft breath. A weak groan escaped from Victor’s chest. He clutched at Yuuri desperately, and Yuuri felt alive, more alive than ever before. 

His back hit the wall, but instead of trapped, Yuuri was being cradled in delicate arms, held softly but urgently, as Victor kissed him more firmly. 

Yuuri gasped into the kiss. “Mmph- ah, Victor,” he panted as Victor drew back a few inches. His eyes fluttered heavily, and Victor bit his lip, barely holding himself back. It was the sight of blood smeared over Victor’s lips that finally roused him enough to push Victor back, a soft touch all it took. 

Yuuri kept him at an arm’s length. “The room… all the blood.... I need to shower again-”

The blatant want was written all over Victor’s face, and it curled warmly inside Yuuri’s belly. Victor laughed helplessly. “Oh fuck, Yuuri, you have no idea how sexy you look right now. A little blood doesn’t scare me off. You’re so unbelievably beautiful, I can’t take it. Please, can I keep kissing you?”

Yuuri gazed up into Victor’s glittering blue eyes. His knees were weak. At last, he nodded. 

Victor surged forward, and the kiss grew more intense. Yuuri was helpless to resist. The warmth spread down his fingers, arms, to every fiber of his being with an unrivaled fire. It burned and rippled through him. Yuuri let out a quiet gasp. His fingers clutched at Victor’s shirt, spreading blood over the fabric. 

His kisses became all teeth and tongue and frantic, harsh breaths. Yuuri shoved back on Victor’s shoulders, pushing him against the wall. He stretched onto his toes to kiss Victor harder. It was Victor’s turn to gasp into Yuuri’s mouth, sinking his fingers into Yuuri’s hips. 

They took heavy, gasping breaths, somehow making it to that bloodstained bed. 

Yuuri squeezed Victor’s waist. He broke the kiss with a sharp breath, looking at the spray of blood and brain matter that covered the floor. The viscera choked him up. 

Chills raced up and down his spine, every hair on his body standing on end. Victor kissed Yuuri’s forehead. “Can I make love to you?” Victor murmured. 

Yuuri fell onto the bed beside Victor, pulling him to face Yuuri. “Please,” he breathed. “Please.” Victor straddled his thighs, Yuuri’s arms slung around his neck. Yuuri looked up. 

The filthy bed was cold on Yuuri’s skin, but Victor was burning hot, and Yuuri tipped his head up, straining to kiss Victor once more. Victor’s fingertips dragged up Yuuri’s torso, pulling the shirt along with it and over Yuuri’s head. 

Yuuri wrenched at the buttons on Victor’s shirt, struggling to get them undone. Victor moaned into Yuuri’s mouth and ripped it open. Buttons flew across the room, the shirt tossed aside without a care. Yuuri grabbed at Victor’s trousers and pulled them down his hips. 

“Mmph, Yuuri,” Victor moaned. 

“Need your dick in me _ now_,” Yuuri said, panting hard. 

Victor laughed softly. The sound of it was positively rich with delight. “Yes, yes, Yuuri, mm,” Victor groaned, yanking his trousers down to his knees. Yuuri shimmied out of his clothes. It was a frantic, desperate scramble to strip themselves bare enough. 

Victor’s fingers were stained as he slicked up the lube in his hands. Yuuri’s body was still soft and open from the previous evening, giving easily enough as Victor soaked his insides with enough lube to ease the way. Yuuri shuddered around the fingers. 

“Victor, Victor!” He’d had a taste of it, and he wanted more. It was such a crushing amount of relief, and he couldn’t stop sobbing as Victor kissed him. Even their kisses tasted salty with tears; it only served to spur Victor on. 

Victor pressed his thick cock against Yuuri’s entrance, pushing in with a shallow thrust. Yuuri keened. His head flew back, eyes closed in utter bliss, and stretched his body, tilting his hips to force it deeper. His hands grasped for Victor’s neck, for the short, silver hair at the base of his neck. He pulled Victor back down for another frantic kiss. 

The motion of their bodies was frenetic, sloppy and rushed. Victor fucked him desperately, flushed to the tips of his ears and clutching at Yuuri as though he could never be close enough. Their bodies could not physically join together any more than they already were, and yet Yuuri ached to be closer. 

He wanted to feel Victor so far inside him that there would no longer be a line between the two. He wanted to be one, one true monster given flesh, one writhing beast of desire and dressed in its crimson cloak of blood. 

Yuuri screamed as Victor sucked hard kisses into the crook of his shoulder, painfully close to his neck. “No,” he hissed, shoving Victor to the side and following the motion to straddle Victor. Sitting astride, the thick cock seemed to press even deeper inside than before. Yuuri shuddered atop it. Victor’s pale skin was smudged and filthy with gore, but his eyes were dazzlingly bright. 

Yuuri groaned, bowing his head and sliding his hands up Victor’s slick chest. He bobbed his hips, breath shaky. Victor sat back with a grin. He looked pleased enough to simply watch Yuuri sputter and gape as he tried to adjust to this new position.

It made Victor feel so much bigger inside him, and just sitting on it, bottomed out, took so much out of him. His mind swam dizzily, but he forced his hips up, dropping down hard enough to bring a cry from his lips. 

He rode Victor hard into the bed. There was no point in muffling the sounds coming from his lips. Every single one of his whimpers and gasps and moans went to Victor’s cock, jerking inside him and pulsing with heat. Yuuri bowed his head, placing his hands over Victor’s soft pink nipples for support.

His thighs burned furiously from the exertion, fucking himself frantically on Victor’s cock again and again. And all the while, he was lost to the feeling of Victor inside him, of the worshipful skim of Victor’s hands on his hips. There was nothing trapping him here. There was only reverence. There was-

“Love,” Yuuri panted. “Love your cock. Feels- ah- so good.”

“Yeah?” Victor panted. His voice trembled with pleasure. “You like that?”

Yuuri was slowing down, but he nodded, whining as it dragged so sweetly over his prostate. “Yesss.” His hips dropped out, and he forced himself to rise, desperate to chase his own pleasure. He fell back onto Victor’s cock, split open wide with his legs sprawled out.

He kissed Victor again, and then went wild once more, seeking out his orgasm with a single-minded determination. He fucked himself open with total abandon. Drool trailed down from the corner of his lips. “Victor, ah, Victor, please, ah-” he panted. 

Victor rocked his hips up, meeting each fall of Yuuri’s. Keeping himself moving was exhausting, but Yuuri desperately sought that fullness. Victor filled him up better than Bradley ever could, fucked him like he gave a damn about how Yuuri felt. God, he loved it.

He couldn’t stop himself, frantically riding Victor’s cock until he finally fell over that tremulous edge, slipping into his orgasm. Victor bit his lip as he watched, his cock seemed to be even bigger as Yuuri twitched around him. Tears slipped down his cheeks. It was so good. So good. 

“Fuck, Yuuri,” Victor whispered. “You’re so beautiful. I can’t take it.”

“Yeah?” Yuuri panted. His lashes fluttered heavily, and he sank down one last time, his oversensitive insides protesting as the nerves sparked. “You are too.” Their chests were spattered with Yuuri’s release, globs of seed and blood mixing on their skin. 

Victor sucked in a breath. His cock gave another valiant twitch inside Yuuri’s body. His hips jerked, fucking up into Yuuri’s body and eliciting a squeal from an overstimulated Yuuri. “Aaaah, fuck,” Yuuri moaned. 

But an impish light burned bright in Victor’s eyes. Even if Yuuri couldn’t bring himself to keep riding, too tired to move, Victor was only just getting riled up. Yuuri’s cock was already stiffening again at the thought. Victor stroked Yuuri’s cock until it was hard in his hand once more and Yuuri was crying in utter bliss. 

Victor brought him off with an almost cruel efficiency, kissing Yuuri’s fingertips as Yuuri let out broken sobs. Yuuri was beautiful for Victor. It swelled in his heart and throbbed through him with liquid heat that scorched him inside and out. 

Yuuri bowed low, kissing Victor’s jaw and lips. Victor never stopped bobbing his hips, teasing Yuuri’s oversensitive body, even as it collapsed atop his chest. Yuuri whimpered softly. It felt so good, never ending and destroying his senses in the best sort of way. 

Build him up, knock him down, just to raise him from the ashes as something more beautiful than ever before. Wasn’t that what Victor had done from the beginning? Hadn’t it taken rock bottom for Yuuri to see the light of the future?

Victor rolled them over once more, Yuuri on his back beneath Victor once more, his legs sprawing back with his knees near his shoulders. Victor seemed to relish in the existing flexibility of Yuuri’s body. He took full advantage of the lax limbs to bend Yuuri fully double and slid his cock back into Yuuri’s puffy, pink hole. 

Yuuri moaned in abandon. Victor’s cock plunged back inside him, each deep slam of his cock bringing stars to Yuuri’s eyes. Victor’s hands clutched at him, hungry for more, hungry for Yuuri.

He slid his fingers down Yuuri’s thighs, stroking the skin and squeezing the swell of Yuuri’s ass. Sweat rolled down Victor’s temple, visceral grunts filling the air. The carnal tempo of his thrusts had Yuuri clutching the sheets, rolling and writhing and dreaming of what it would feel like to have his wrists bound, at Victor’s mercy.

It stopped him dead, that sudden thought. How powerful it felt. He could thrive in willingly giving himself to Victor, who would cherish what he was given, compared to Bradley, who would take and discard the filthy husk without a thought. Yuuri groaned as Victor sank his cock in with one last thrust.

He came, filling Yuuri deep with his release, kissing Yuuri as he spilled. Yuuri couldn’t let him go. He cradled Victor’s face in his hands. He’d never felt so safe, so warm, as he did right here, right now, with Victor’s cock and cum in his belly, with Victor’s body on his, with Victor’s lips kissing away his tears. 

“My Yuuri,” Victor said. “Mine, mine.”

“My Victor,” Yuuri breathed. 

In the distance, there was a soft puppy cry, the sounds of a little Makkachin who desperately wanted to go to the bathroom. Victor rolled off of Yuuri, his cock slipping out. Both groaned as their bodies separated. 

“We should shower and get dressed,” Victor said, smiling a little. “Need some help?”

“Mmm,” Yuuri hummed. Victor helped him to the bathroom, and they bathed in peace, sharing the shower between them. They dressed. By the time they were out and dried off, Victor’s phone rang. 

He answered, speaking for a moment. “Tomorrow morning would be perfect. Thank you. Do you know how long it will take?” There was a pause. “Ah, alright. I understand. We’ll see you then,” Victor said, hanging up. 

Yuuri gave him a questioning look. 

Victor passed Yuuri a fresh pair of clothes as they walked gingerly from the room. Staying clean this time was more important than it had been before. “The crime scene clean up team will be here in the morning. It might take anywhere from a few hours to a day or two. They won’t know until they arrive. Do you want to take Makkachin for a quick walk before bed? We can sleep in one of the guest rooms tonight.”

Yuuri nodded. His eyes were heavy, but it was too early for a nap. He leaned against Victor as they leashed her up, taking Makkachin for a leisurely walk down the long, winding driveway and around the house. 

“You look tired. Should we head back?” Victor asked. 

Yuuri hummed. “I’m fine… just… sleepy...”

“You had a long day. Let’s head back. Makkachin looks like she’s getting tired, too.”

Yuuri nodded, and they picked their way back to the house under a sky scattered with stars. The evening air was nice on Yuuri’s skin. He felt reborn. Victor’s fingers laced through his. 

Victor spoke softly. “When I lost my mother, I thought, ‘this was it. I would never have a family again’. I’ve never been romantically interested in other people. I’ve spent my whole life trying to be what my father wanted of me; trying to just make it through another day. Even when I first saw you at the gala, my desire for you was nothing short of purely carnal. I wanted you, this beautiful mess, posed as stunningly as befit a creature of your radiance.”

Yuuri’s cheeks were hot with embarrassment. “I don’t think I was that ‘radiant’ or anything like that…”

“But you were. I was captivated. No one had ever danced with me the way you had. No one seized my attention so thoroughly. I thought, damn it all, I had to have you. And then I had you, and you were all mine for the taking, and I- I hesitated. I hadn’t ever hesitated before. I told myself it was because you weren’t beautiful. But that was a lie. You always were. I just didn’t realize until I saw the way you looked as you cried that first night.”

“I must have been disgusting,” Yuuri snorted. “I don’t cry prettily.”

“That’s the thing,” Victor said. “All the glamours and trappings of society had fallen away. Everything you showed me was raw. It was real. It touched something inside me I had forgotten I’d even had. And day after day, I told myself I just wanted to see a little more, a little more, and you gave me that. You kept me guessing day after day and I was hooked.”

“I didn’t do anything, though. I was just… being me. I was just trying to make sense of my life.”

“But your pain was real and your responses were real, and I… I felt like I was looking at a version of myself, when I still had hope. Back when it was freshly shattered, and I was clinging to the pieces. The time before I gave up and let myself drift along listlessly for so many years, seeking thrills the only way I knew how, and desperately searching for a better quarry each time as if it would give me something back in my life. But… this time it did.”

Yuuri let the words weigh on him. “I almost gave up, before. Coming to America, it was like a bandage over the broken pieces. I tried to pretend I wasn’t broken, and for a while, I almost succeeded. I’d almost convinced myself that I wasn’t a misshapen piece of paper, poorly folded into some sad origami creature and then trying to flatten it back. When the bandage was ripped off, when I opened my eyes… it was almost more than I could bear.”

“But you survived,” Victor said. “Everything that happened to you. You’re here.”

“I was the only one.” Yuuri looked away. His throat was tight. “Tsunami.” His voice caught in his throat. “There was an earthquake offshore. The tidal wave came in. A lot of people were hurt. Some… didn’t survive. I was out of town with a family friend. When I heard the news, I-” He broke off. 

He coughed. 

“I used to visit their graves every year. I haven’t… in a while, I guess. I haven’t had a chance to go…” 

“Haven’t? Or couldn’t?” Victor asked. 

Yuuri shrugged. “Does it make a difference?”

“I think it does,” Victor said. “Haven’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t. Would you go back if you could?” 

“If I could… I think I would like to,” Yuuri said, staring up at the sky. “But life… makes things hard. And I can’t exactly pack up and fly to Japan on a whim.”

“No, I imagine it’s not that easy for you, especially given what just happened,” Victor agreed quietly. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry for your loss. I know it doesn’t make it better for me to say it, but…”

“Thank you,” Yuuri said. The grass crunched softly underfoot. They were nearly back now, and the soft drone of crickets was the only sound left in the night. “You killed your dad, didn’t you?”

“... Yes,” Victor said. He looked surprised. “How did you know? He’s not in the book.”

“I guessed. He was your first, though, wasn’t he? The first by your own hand.”

“Yes, he was. I was lucky I wasn’t caught. Money cleaned up my mistakes, and Russia can be a forgiving training ground for those who can use the political landscape to their advantage. I’ve learned a lot since then. The feeling of your first… it doesn’t ever go away, you know.”

“Good,” Yuuri said. His fists clenched. He remembered Bradley’s silent corpse, and the stillness that came of a threat that was no longer a threat anymore. He could still feel the stiffness in his muscles from the vigorous sex, the lingering traces of soreness from being coupled with Victor. “I want to remember this feeling.”

Victor smiled at him. “Have I ever told you how sexy you are when you get like this? Pure _ eros _. Passionate, physical desire. I yearn for you.”

Yuuri felt goosebumps up his spine. A little wisp of pride bubbled up inside him, bringing a trace of a smile to his lips. It felt good to be desired. “Good,” Yuuri said quietly. 

“I still can’t touch your neck, though, can I?” Victor asked. 

Yuuri shook his head. “Bradley may be dead, but it still makes me uneasy, even now. I may be relaxed enough one day, but… for now, it’s still too much. I’d like to keep trying, though, if that’s okay? I’m doing a lot better already. I'd like to see if I can do more.”

“Gladly,” Victor agreed. They kissed Makkachin goodnight, tucking her into her puppy bed. The guest bedroom was clean, though smaller than the master bedroom, and Yuuri crawled between the covers after changing into pjs. 

He fell asleep almost instantaneously. 

The rush of the day’s events echoed in dreams, half-remembered even in an unconscious state. The world had utterly turned on its head in the last twenty four hours and it remained to be seen where things would go from here. There was still room to grow, still things to work on and dreams to reach for. 

But for now, for once in Yuuri’s life, he felt like this was something that he could reach for himself, without being given a boost to the top that he had never earned. 

* * *

**July 2, 2019**

Victor took the day off work, but there was no downtime. He rolled Yuuri out of bed early in the morning, when Yuuri was still feeling a bit too gremlin-like to stand up. 

But eventually Victor cajoled him to his feet and into a nice suit that Yuuri didn’t remember having before. He pulled at the jacket, confused. 

“We can get it tailored soon, but it should fit well enough for now. Hopefully while we’re gone, this place will be cleaned up.” Victor offered Yuuri a smile. 

“What about Makkachin?” Yuuri asked. 

“I took her for a quick walk to do her business while you were still asleep. Yuuuuri, don’t fall asleep on me, sleepy head!”

Yuuri blinked, realizing he’d been dozing off on his feet. “Mmm, not good at early mornings,” he grumbled. 

“Well, you do like to sleep in,” Victor teased. “We can have coffee now and get breakfast in the city, if you like?”

“Want tea,” Yuuri mumbled. 

Victor laughed softly. “Alright, I can add tea to the grocery list. Are you ready to go?”

Yuuri glanced once more in the mirror, not fully recognizing himself. His hair was slicked back from his face, and a silk tie hung loose on his neck, not yet tied. Yuuri hummed and reached for the ends, slowly tying it. 

It tightened snugly around his neck, his hands trembling a little despite himself. He sucked in a shaky breath. No one was going to grab the end and pull it tight. He was fine. He was perfectly, 100% fine. 

Victor noticed the unease, because he approached, moving slow enough for Yuuri to stop him, and dropped a kiss on Yuuri’s temple. “I don’t usually recommend clip on ties, but I could make an exception if you want?”

“No, it’s fine, I’ll be okay,” Yuuri said. “I just need to get used to it.” Victor nodded. 

They had breakfast at a cafe near the law office, before stepping into a building that was clean and well-lit, built up with lots of wood desks and paneling. 

Yuuri zoned in and out of the discussions. It all related to him, how to ensure that there was no possible way that anyone could find him responsible. Currently, it was not a difficult challenge. Having the entire event digitized and immortalized in high definition was a strong argument. 

They had at least three days of film... 

Yuuri froze. They had video of Victor and Yuuri in bed. It had been less than 24 hours after they had last had sex when Bradley had shown up. Maybe they wouldn’t look-

Maybe they would-

Yuuri’s pocket buzzed. The lawyer didn’t look up, flipping through a pile of documents and muttering to himself. Victor shot Yuuri a questioning look, and Yuuri stood and stepped into the hallway. 

“Hello?” He answered cautiously. 

“Yuuri! How are you holding up?” 

“Phichit!” Yuuri said, surprised. “I’m- I’m doing okay. Still a bit shaken up. Why are you calling?” He was stammering a little. Oh god. Was this about Yuuri being tied up in the video? Surely someone had seen that. Would he think Victor was abusing him, too?

“I wanted to know if you’d like to get some lunch today? I know you’ve been through a lot these last few days, and I just wanted to make sure you’re doing alright. What you went through is enough to traumatize anyone.”

“Oh!” Yuuri said. He blinked at the wall a few times. “That’s very thoughtful. Thank you. I’m actually with Victor talking to his lawyer right now. I can find out when we’ll be done?”

“That would be awesome! You can just shoot me a text to this number if you want, I’m calling on my cell. Victor is invited too, if he wants to come!”

Something warm swelled in Yuuri’s chest. Phichit reminded him a bit of Sara, in a way. The same brightness, the same compassion and fire. He wouldn’t replace her, of course, but there was a void where Yuuri had once had friends, and it had never seemed so enticing to fill it once more. 

Yuuri crept back into the office. “Phichit, we met him back at the police station a while back? He wanted to know if we would meet him for lunch. Hell

“Do you want to go?” Victor asked. Yuuri nodded. Victor smiled. “Then it sounds great. We’ll wrap this up for a while. When do you need Yuuri’s official statement by?”

“I can take it this afternoon. I’ve got everything I need for now, go on ahead,” Victor’s lawyer said. From what Yuuri understood, the lawyer was being very handsomely compensated by the hour, and he was very good at what he did. At this point in the day, Yuuri didn’t think there was much of anything he could contribute to his own defense.

Yuuri sent Phichit a text, which was answered immediately. 

They met at a cozy little Italian restaurant. Phichit had arrived first, a pair of seats beside him sitting open. He waved them over. “Yuuri! You clean up nicely!” 

“Ah, thank you,” Yuuri said. Phichit was in a yellow button up and slacks, and though he too was dressed fairly nicely, it didn’t compare to the devastatingly handsome lines of Victor Nikiforov in a suit jacket. “I like your shirt.”

“Thanks!” They chit chatted for a while, placing their orders. 

“You’re definitely doing alright?” Phichit asked. “I’m sorry if I’m annoying you by asking so much, but what you went through is more than anyone deserves.”

“I’m really doing okay,” Yuuri said. “Victor is a big help. Mostly I’m just… really relieved that it’s finally over.”

“Yeah, I get that. You wouldn’t believe the number of times I’ve seen people get away from their abusers, and every single one of them acts so very differently. Some punish themselves and go back, and others take the chance to carve a new life for themselves. I’m glad that you seem to be pushing forward.”

Phichit smiled at Victor. Yuuri was still waiting for the other shoe to drop, for it to be revealed that Phichit suspected Victor of being the same. He’d had ample chance to see the video of Yuuri tied to a headboard and sobbing. 

The anxiety was tearing him apart. Yuuri drummed his fingers anxiously on the table. Where was their food? “I’m going to run to the restroom,” Victor said. “You’ll be okay by yourself, won’t you?”

Yuuri nodded. “Yeah, go ahead,” Yuuri said. He watched Victor’s back vanish. 

Phichit looked at him curiously. “Are you alright, Yuuri? Is everything okay between you and Victor?”

“Fine!” Yuuri said quickly, then took a slow breath. If anyone knew though… it would be Phichit… Yuuri looked back toward the bathroom for a second. “Have you um… do you know anything about people using… um… BDSM? Like… to get… over stuff, I guess?”

Phichit blinked. “Well, I don’t have any research or scholarly studies on it. I can look into it, if you want. But I have some friends in certain circles, so I can guess well enough that it’s not as bad as it might sound. Why? Is Victor pressuring you?”

“No, nothing like that. It was just… something I was wondering about. Like… if it helps, I guess?”

Phichit tapped his chin. “It would definitely depend on a lot of factors. But broadly speaking, an issue faced by many victims of abuse is a lack of control and agency. Consent is something stripped out of their vocabulary.”

“So it’s… a good thing?” Yuuri said. 

“When your partner is someone reliable and trustworthy, it can be a safe way to build trust. From what I know about BDSM, pre-negotiated and enthusiastic consent is highly encouraged. Even when lack of consent is a factor people want to play with, there are safe words to end it when it goes to far. It can empower you, to have limits.”

Just as Victor had said. Yuuri felt a little smile creep on the corner of his lips. 

“But just the same; there is reason to be careful. Many victims perpetuate the cycle of abuse, either as victims or abusers themselves. And in a BDSM environment, they can find untrustworthy people they can use to hurt themselves and others.”

Yuuri took a shaky breath. “What is the line between being a victim again and building trust?”

“It’s something you’d probably have to work out yourself, maybe with help from someone who knows more than me. But consent to me is the biggest factor. Intimacy should never leave one person feeling like they don’t have control over their situation. And Yuuri, if you feel safer in a structured situation like that, it could be a tool you can use to build confidence in yourself. Just make sure Victor knows, too!”

“Victor knows what now?” Victor asked, taking a seat at the table again. 

Phichit winked. “Knows how much lunch costs. Yuuri said it was on you.”

“Oh did he now?” Victor said, laughing. “I think I can cover it alright.”

The rest of lunch was much more pleasant after Yuuri got that off his chest. Phichit made Yuuri swear to call him if he needed anything. 

Victor and Yuuri returned to the law office, and Yuuri couldn’t get rid of the lightness in his heart.

* * *

**September 19, 2019**

Days and weeks passed. It took time for Yuuri to officially clear his name, and in that time, Makkachin grew like a leaf. Yuuri blinked and the puppy was a mess of gangly, beige limbs before he knew it. 

She started learning her name, begged mercilessly for treats with her big puppy eyes, and generally acted like the most lovable menace imaginable. 

Everything was perfect… well, almost. 

“Yuuri, don’t you want to perform again?” Victor asked. 

Yuuri wrapped his arms around himself, sulking. For the last two days, he had been a useless lout, unable to do even the simplest dance moves without messing up. It didn’t help that in the last week, Victor’s hands had started twitching. 

Victor didn’t have to say anything. Yuuri could see the edge in everything Victor did. The low level frustration simmered patiently, waiting for Yuuri to be ready himself, but Yuuri couldn’t take it. 

The thought of dancing before a crowd again had him crippled in fear. He had broken himself of his nerves with Bradley around, and he would need to break himself again. 

And those nerves translated into everything he did, making him jumpier and more distant, to Victor’s frustration. Victor sat on the edge of the bed. “Yuuri, please, just tell me what’s wrong?”

“It doesn’t make sense. It never does,” Yuuri said, shaking his head. “It feels like I can’t make myself think rationally, and it frustrates me even more that I know what I should do and I can’t bring myself to do it.”

“You’ve danced on stage so many times before. You don’t want to audition? I thought it was your dream.”

“It is!” Yuuri said. “But it doesn’t matter how many times I’ve danced before, my head doesn’t work like that. Being ready for it isn’t about having done it before. It’s being able to do it _ now _that’s the issue.”

He clutched his head and grumbled under his breath. Makkachin helpfully licked his chin, getting dangerously close to Yuuri’s neck. He fought the urge to twitch away. A puppy didn’t know better. 

Yuuri scruffed her ears, stroking her to ease some of the tension in his shoulders. “I want to dance in front of people but my head won’t fall silent. My thoughts are too loud. If I could stop thinking I would.”

“What if you danced while buzzed? Alcohol loosens your inhibitions like nothing else. It may work something loose.”

“But it doesn’t solve the issue of dancing in front of people if I’m just dancing in front of you,” Yuuri said. He drummed his fingers on his leg. Victor was staring at him like he was missing the point. “What? What was your idea?”

“A club. Some place that’s busy enough to have an audience, but not the kind of audience that’s going to watch you close enough to make you anxious. Combine that with a few sips of your poison of choice and I think you could impress just about anyone.”

His chest clenched. “I- I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it before. I shouldn’t be so nervous, but I never really went to anything like that before so I don’t know what to think about the idea.”

“We don’t have to go. It was just a thought. I don’t want to push you into something that makes you truly uncomfortable. But pushing at your boundaries is also how we’ve made it this far. Ultimately it’s your choice.”

Yuuri hummed. The idea of people touching him, grinding against him, filled him with disgust. But there was a bit of excitement as well. A club, of course, offered an audience of people whose thoughts and opinions didn’t matter at all. Unqualified and inebriated masses could watch it and judge, but in the end, it was only Victor and Yuuri whose opinions mattered. 

Victor’s hands still trembled.

“You’re not killing someone at the nightclub,” Yuuri said.

“I’m not! I wasn’t going to!” Victor said. “My Yuuri, you wound me-”

Yuuri squinted. He took Victor’s hands in his own, stroking over the strong, slender fingers. “You want the hunt, the conquest? You miss it.”

Victor didn’t answer for a moment. He nodded. “It’s something that’s become almost like a drug. The rush. I don’t need it, though. I know my darling Yuuri gets jealous.” He smiled fondly at Yuuri.

Yuuri moved to lay beside him. The lines of Victor’s body were warm and comforting. Victor pressed a kiss to Yuuri’s temple. Yuuri hummed softly, saying nothing while he tried to find the right words. 

“Hunt me,” Yuuri said. His eyes burned bright, and a fire raged inside him. “I’ll try to seduce you with my dancing, and you try to bring me home however possible. Hunt me, Victor. Make me yours again.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end, or perhaps the beginning...?

**September 20, 2019**

Dance music thrummed low as a pulse. It throbbed under Yuuri’s skin, reverberating bone deep and echoing through his blood and his soul.

It wasn’t his scene, and it wasn’t something he was remotely interested in, but there was an appeal to the low, flickering lights. 

The air was warm on his bare skin. He was dressed in moderately revealing clothes, nothing so far outside his comfort zone that it was unbearable, but far enough from his normal-wear that it made shivers run down his spine. Yuuri felt stripped down, exposed, and alluring in a strange way. 

Across the room, a white head bobbed near the other end of the bar, following the beat of the music. Yuuri sucked in a shaky breath. He downed the rest of his drink, gritting his teeth at the acrid taste. It swirled in his head. Yuuri slid his glass toward the bartender. One more… one more. 

How many years, he’d dreaded the smell. When Bradley was drunk, he became belligerent. But around him, Yuuri could see gleefully drunk young bodies grinding against one another. People who weren’t monsters. 

It set his nerves a little more at ease, to see the joyful abandon. A woman nearby caught his eye, familiar, but not who he thought it was. Rebecca, as far as he knew, was still in Cincinnati. Enjoying the spoils of her evils, no doubt. 

Rage bubbled inside him. Bradley got his, but she got off scot free. How disgusting. How distasteful, that she should get to live her life without a single regard for the suffering she inflicted. 

He polished his new drink off to images of blood and the way flesh resisted under a knife. At last, he stepped away. Alcohol swirled in his blood and his absent thoughts. The venom was gone. In its place was a desperation to move. 

Blue eyes followed him, a predator in a dark room. Yuuri smiled towards them. His heart fluttered, lighter now. He was being watched. 

Yuuri rolled his shoulders to the music, throwing out a bubbling laugh. _ Watch me, follow me, you know you want me- _

He swayed in place, only to break into dance as the song shifted into one that favored a more involved set of motions. The crowd made room for him, edging into a circle just beyond the tips of his fingers. Their cheers soared. It went to Yuuri’s head faster than the alcohol could. Faster, faster, he danced like the ocean spilling over the sands. 

Untamed, wild, destructive-

Yuuri’s breath came hot and heavy as he saw the glimpse of silver sliding closer. Hands reached for him, a stranger with dark hair, and Yuuri danced away. He was free. He was above it all, a god mere mortals could never hope to touch. Better that than a pariah, cursed beyond sanity, better than what he truly was. Like this, he could forget the scars he wore. Like this, his skin was clean of marks, and he was living only for now. 

The cheers came louder as people parted, making way for Yuuri to move towards the little stage on one end of the club. Slender, silver poles stood empty, and Yuuri reached for one, taking it into his hands like a long-forgotten lover. Oh, he’d missed this. 

One was newly installed in the dance studio, but it wasn’t the same as this, with eyes watching him flex his arms and raise himself off the floor. His toes skimmed the ground as he turned a few circles. He touched back down and swept into a crouch, sinuously unwinding his body. 

The routine was unchoreographed, following only the whims of his own body. With each pulse of the music, he ground his hips against it, thrust his back to the pole, lifted himself and spun. Every move shed another piece of himself. Every pelvic thrust let another painful memory fall into alcohol-sodden oblivion.

And those blue eyes watched it all, hungry, craving tonight’s kill. _ Hunt me. Claim me. You want me, don’t you? I know you do, so come and get it, if you even dare… _

A challenge. Yuuri locked eyes with a monster dressed in black, and the blue gaze burned back. Yuuri looked away without a care. He started twisting himself into the air, winding the audience up with fluid spins. 

His feet hit the floor to a surge of cheers. Yuuri twisted and turned, dancing with more intensity now. It throbbed in his blood. Hands reached for him again, and Yuuri blew a kiss in their direction before twirling away. 

A tease, a push and pull. Close the distance, and then seperate again. Twine fingers together, allowing a few precious seconds of dancing, and then part once more, leaving those blue eyes burning brighter and brighter by turns. 

Yuuri loved this feeling. He loved feeling _ desired. _He loved feeling like he was wanted, and this was what he had always wanted on stage. Perhaps it was foolish. He wanted to dance onstage again. Maybe this time, he could be better. 

The dark haired stranger from before boxed Yuuri in, leering with a cold grin. “Hey there, sexy. Wanna dance with me?”

Yuuri felt a wave of coldness run down his skin, seizing in his chest and stealing his breath. He forced his gaze up, unimpressed. “With you,” Yuuri said, putting every ounce of disdain and disgust he could muster into those two words. “No thank you.”

He turned, and his arm was grabbed. His breath hitched, pulse racing in raw terror. He flinched for his knife-

Only to find Victor there, one hand on each of their shoulders. Victor offered a wide, extremely pissed off smile. “The man said no thank you. I think you should move on,” he said to the stranger. Victor’s grip on the stranger’s shoulder tightened, more, more, until the stranger released Yuuri’s arm. Yuuri gasped out a shallow pant. He was shaking. 

The stranger sneered and turned away. “Fucker…”

“Are you okay?” Victor asked. 

Yuuri nodded. He caught his breath slowly. The knife in his pocket was a familiar, encouraging weight. He had wanted to stab him—

Victor threw Yuuri a warmer smile now, reaching out. At last, Yuuri was captured in a pair of strong arms, a muffled laugh that whispered, “And now I’ve got you,” in his ear, hot and heavy. 

He sank back into his role with a demure dip of his head. “Is that so?” Yuuri murmured. He smiled and ducked the grip, twirling away on the tips of his toes before ducking back into the crowd. The chase began anew, swirling and morphing into a fiery pasa doble as the music shifted once more. 

Yuuri laughed, bright as starlight, and he was swept into a feverish kiss, muffled by alcohol and energy. “Mm, Victor…” he murmured. 

Victor kissed Yuuri’s knuckles, their foreheads nearly touching. “Mine,” Victor breathed. 

Yuuri circled his arms around Victor’s waist, his smile growing smug. “Wrong. _ Mine,” _he said, giving Victor a pointed squeeze. Victor let out a sound of pure delight. They spun around, dancing again to the lurid beat of the music. It stole Yuuri’s breath, all his sense.

“Come home with me,” Victor whispered.

Yuuri smirked. “And why should I do that?”

“A beautiful little thing like you deserves the best. I can give you the stars.”

“I don’t want the stars,” Yuuri said, turning away dismissively. “If that’s all you have to offer-”

“I won’t leave without you, darling,” Victor crooned. His hands settled on Yuuri’s hips, his lips finding Yuuri’s hair. Yuuri pretended to entertain the thought. “Must I steal you away, then, if sweet promises won’t persuade you?”

“By all means, steal away,” Yuuri murmured, letting Victor lead him by the hand out the door, the smile growing wider on his face. The cooler night air bathed his skin, after the heat of the club. Yuuri breathed in slowly, following the siren’s call to the door of the luxury sedan Victor drove. 

Victor made a show of opening the door for him, and Yuuri couldn’t stifle the laugh. “I didn’t realize I was being stolen away by a gentleman.”

“I am nothing if not a gentleman,” Victor said. “But let’s see if you still think I’m so nice when we get back home, hmm?” The teasing continued all the way to Victor’s home, deep outside of town, at the end of the long, winding drive. 

They barely made it indoors before Yuuri’s back hit the inside of the front door. A low moan leaked out of Yuuri’s lips. “You’ve fallen into my trap,” Victor breathed. “Never to escape again.”

Yuuri stretched onto his toes. “Who says I want to escape?” He tugged Victor’s shirt, wrenching Victor to the side so Yuuri could turn them around, pulling Victor upstairs. 

The bedroom had been fully renovated once more, now a perfect reflection of their tastes. Yuuri pulled them back onto the spotless bedspread. Victor moved between his thighs, his touch like fire as he closed the distance between them.

“Yuuri, Yuuri,” Victor panted. He laced their fingers together. Yuuri bit Victor’s lip, not hard enough to draw blood, but firmly enough to make Victor blink at him in surprise. 

“I don’t remember giving you my name,” Yuuri said. “And you never told me yours…”

“You’ll be moaning it all the same,” Victor laughed, “won’t you, Yuuuu-_ ri?” _

Yuuri gave Victor a good-natured shove, only for Victor to pin Yuuri’s wrists above his head. Yuuri let out a breathless moan. “Feeling kinky, then, stranger?” he teased. 

“I might be,” Victor murmured. His eyes fluttered half shut, studying Yuuri with that same predatory look as before. On the bedside table, a length of blue rope was coiled up in a neat pile. Victor reached for it, making short work of Yuuri’s wrists. He left Yuuri on his back, but secured Yuuri’s wrists above his head. 

Yuuri gave them a tug and hummed. “Looks like you’ve got me trapped now, whatever will you do to me?”

“Eat you alive,” Victor promised, capturing Yuuri’s lips in an all-consuming kiss. “Dangerous, pretty thing.”

“Mmm,” Yuuri hummed, taking each sweet kiss as it came. Victor undid each button of Yuuri’s shirt, one by one, until Yuuri’s chest was laid bare. His trousers and underwear were tossed aside, leaving him almost entirely nude on the bed. 

“I can’t take how beautiful you look…” Victor’s hands stroked along the skin of Yuuri’s hips. His hands gripped Yuuri’s knees, wrenching them back until they were flush with the bed. “Posed just like this…”

“Are you going to fuck me or stare at me?” Yuuri cooed. His cock was half stiff between his thighs. 

Victor pressed his lips to the newly-exposed underside of Yuuri’s naked thigh, harshly enough to scrape his teeth against the flesh. Goosebumps erupted on Yuuri’s skin. “All in good time. I’ve got more patience than that.”

His lips dropped to Yuuri’s ass, pressing a surprisingly tender kiss to Yuuri’s balls. He traveled up, dragging the flat of his tongue over Yuuri’s cock and sucking the length down, swallowing harshly. Yuuri’s legs jerked, but Victor held them firm in his hands.

“Stay,” Victor crooned. “Let me taste you.” Yuuri fought to hold his legs still as Victor began to eat him out, his kiss dropping to Yuuri’s entrance and then sucking each testicle into his mouth one by one. It was almost more than Yuuri could bear. His face twisted in pleasure, and he felt himself burning, losing control faster than he wanted.

“Victor- I’m- I’m going to- ah, Victor!” Yuuri gasped, and Victor sucked hard on Yuuri’s cock until Yuuri spilled between his lips. 

Victor unbuttoned his trousers with a noisy clatter of his belt. Yuuri moaned weakly in the bed, unable to move so soon after orgasm. He barely flinched as Victor’s cock brushed his cheeks. It bobbed between his legs, nudging toward his entrance, and Yuuri let out a soft whine. “Too soon…”

“Let me in, Yuuri. ” Victor smiled. “I know you can take it… let me in… that’s it, nice and soft for me, Yuuri,” he murmured. 

The blunt head of Victor’s cock pressed against Yuuri’s entrance. It was slick and soft from being fucked thoroughly before they’d left, still wet with the lube and cum from earlier. Oversensitivity left Yuuri whimpering softly under his breath, hands clenching and unclenching as he took it all in. 

Little rolls of Victor’s hips was all it took. In minutes, he was all the way inside, and Yuuri was clenching tight around him. Victor swore under his breath, letting out a low moan. 

“Oh Yuuri, fuck, you feel so good around me,” he panted. He yanked Yuuri’s hips, pulling them up flush with his thighs and inching his cock a tiny bit deeper than before. Yuuri let out a soft groan as it shifted inside him. 

Messy, wet sounds filled the air as Victor started to move, coupling with their low moans and groans as they fell into a rhythm together. Yuuri was lost in the push and pull between the ropes, the drive of Victor’s cock. 

It was too much, too perfect. “Victor, Victor!” Yuuri cried. 

“Oh, Yuuri,” Victor moaned, bowing his head low. Their foreheads touched, hair clinging messily to their skin as sweat beaded up. And Victor’s thrusts came faster, harder, until Yuuri almost couldn’t take it. “Fuck, my Yuuri, you feel so good, I can’t take this, mine, all mine, all mine,” Victor huffed. 

The heated words coiled in Yuuri’s stomach, burning like fire. It felt so good to make Victor feel good, a balance in making love that Yuuri had never felt before. Mutual pleasure, so much of it flowing between them in waves until it was more than any one of them could take. Yuuri threw back his head and screamed in bliss. 

And all the while, Victor’s words never stopped flowing over Yuuri, filling him inside and out deeper than even his could could reach. “My beautiful, gorgeous, stunning Yuuri, feels so good,” he panted. “I can’t- I’m going to- ah, Yuuri-”

He was close, Yuuri could hear it in his voice. The sounds of fucking seemed deafening— the wet sounds of Victor’s cock, the slap of his balls on Yuuri’s thighs as he drove his cock in rapid, frantic thrusts. His rhythm was shaking, losing steadiness the closer he got to the edge. 

“Come inside me,” Yuuri begged, “Victor, my Victor, mine.”

_ Mine_.

Victor groaned as he came. Yuuri was close behind, jerked off slowly as Victor filled him up. It spattered between them, filthy on Yuuri’s thighs and stomach. His wrists were set free. They cuddled in the afterglow. Yuuri laid on Victor’s chest, leisurely feeling the release trickle out of him and down his perineum, coating his balls in Victor’s seed. 

Yuuri smiled to himself, satiated and smug. 

He was only limping a little as he stood up, stretching. The mess spilling down his thighs felt like a victory won. They bathed together, then took Makkachin for an evening walk before crawling into bed together. It was like something out of a dream, and Yuuri would never be happier than he was right now. 

He could almost still feel Victor inside him as he fell asleep at last. 

He dreamed of darkness first, then cracks of lightning as bright strobing lights. He was back in Bradley’s apartment, forced on his stomach as Bradley fumbled behind him. Yuuri muffled a scream. In his hands was the gun, Victor’s gun— no, Yuuri’s gun. 

He kicked Bradley down, held the gun between Bradley’s eyes. He fired. But Bradley didn’t even blink as blood ran down his face. 

“You’ll never be free of me. You’ll bear these scars forever. You’ll always flinch when someone touches you. I won. I won! I-”

Yuuri fired the gun again, again, growing frantic as he unloaded the clip into Bradley’s skull. At last, Bradley fell silent. Laughter echoed in the distance, high and clear. Rebecca. Still alive, gloating in the distance. 

She had made off with both their misery. Unearned victory, cruelty as her game. 

Yuuri woke with a start, cold sweat running down his skin and making his clothes cling to him. Victor stirred with a soft murmur. “Mmmm… Yuuri…?”

“Just another nightmare,” Yuuri whispered. “Go back to sleep.” Victor kissed Yuuri’s knuckles, heavy silver lashes fluttering over his cheek as he dozed back to sleep. Yuuri stumbled out of bed and got himself a cool glass of water, sipping it slowly in the darkness. 

She was still out there. How miserable she had made Yuuri, day after horrible day. Thinking she had won, because she’d wormed her way into Bradley’s bed. 

Yuuri’s hands trembled in rage. The surface of the water rippled, and Yuuri set the glass aside to keep from spilling. 

He crawled back into bed. Victor reached for his hand, and he held it as Yuuri fell into a fitful sleep. Yuuri stirred again when Victor did, his yawn whispersoft but still loud enough to wake Yuuri. 

He grumbled softly. 

“Are you alright, my Yuuri?” Victor murmured, sweeping the hair back from Yuuri’s forehead. 

Yuuri hummed. “Are you really satisfied?” he asked, half opening his eyes. Victor looked confused. “The urge to murder, is it gone? Was hunting me enough?”

“Why?” Victor asked, stroking Yuuri’s cheek. He carefully avoided getting too close to Yuuri’s throat. “Darling, I’m not going to go off and kill someone. Why are you worried?”

Yuuri grumbled quietly. “I’m not worried about that. I just… it’s silly, never mind.”

“Tell me,” Victor crooned. He peppered Yuuri’s cheeks and sleepy eyes with kisses. “It’s never silly when it’s you.”

Yuuri squeezed Victor’s hand. “I… want to feel it again. That feeling. It’s- never mind, like I said, it’s silly.”

“Is there someone else you want to hurt?” Victor asked. “Someone beyond Bradley? I’m more than willing to help you.”

Yuuri’s mind flickered briefly to the asshole at the club. “Her name was Rebecca…” he muttered. “She was the one Bradley cheated on me with. Then she ran off on him and slept with a director in Cincinnati.” His fist clenched. “She’s a terrible, self serving person who doesn’t care about anyone but herself.”

Victor grinned. “I’ll start planning. In the meanwhile, though… I’ve been meaning to ask you. We should celebrate the court case being finished. It’s not often you get to murder someone in full view of cameras and cops and get off with nothing more than a few lawyer bills…”

Yuuri snorted. “What are you planning…?”

“Yuuri, do you trust me?” Victor asked. His blue eyes were raw and open, drowning in fathomless depths. 

Yuuri let out a shaky breath. He nodded slowly. “With my life.”

Victor smiled. 

* * *

**September 25, 2019**

Yuuri was baffled as his bags were placed in the back of a golf cart, instead of in the back of Victor’s car. Victor sat in the driver’s seat, beckoning for Yuuri to join him. He sat in the passenger seat, and they drove down a quiet gravel road that led to the back of Victor’s property. 

The private airplane was parked on a private landing strip a ways back on the property. Yuuri grabbed for Victor’s wrist as it came into view. It had been taxied out of the small hanger nearby. 

“You’re _ joking,” _Yuuri whispered. “Why do you have a plane?”

“Planes aren’t as pricey as you might think. And it likewise didn’t cost too terribly much to pave a strip of ground to take off from,” Victor said with a wry grin. 

Yuuri eyed him. “Okay, but why didn’t you take the private plane when you traveled for business?”

Victor shrugged. “It was on the company card. Also, my plane doesn’t have that many seats, and I had to bring a small team with me. Believe it or not, there was actually a problem that day!”

Yuuri harrumphed, conceding that much. “Okay, so you have a private plan. You can just… come and go at will?”

Victor smiled. “To an extent. Most flights I tend to check in to customs, and land in public airports, so it isn’t quite as much ‘at will’ as you might think. But I do know of a few small, private air strips that will allow me to land without documentation, which was a great help when I would make my trips for my… private excursions.”

Yuuri looked along the length of the plane. It was much, much smaller than the international planes Yuuri usually traveled on. The stairs stretched from the door to the ground, and Victor beckoned Yuuri to the craft. "Come on, the investigator, Ms Yang, has nearly given up on suspecting me of any misdoings. Surely a few nice pictures on vacation will set her worries at ease. And I want to see you smiling again."

Yuuri couldn't fight the grin approaching his lips, and Victor's expression became radiant as he saw it. He clasped Yuuri's hands and led him up the stairs. The plane was beautiful within, richly designed with plush armchairs and elegant furnishings. They took off, and Yuuri sat back in the cozy chair.

“So, where are we going?”

“Surprise,” Victor said, taking a seat beside Yuuri. “The pilot is taking us to our destination, so just sit back and relax for a while. There’s a small bedroom in the back, if you want to rest.”

Yuuri narrowed his eyes. “So it’s a long flight, then? Not domestic, anyway. Did you get my passport?”

“It was in your box of belongings,” Victor said. “But i’m not saying anything else. My lips are sealed.”

Yuuri’s mind raced at all the possibilities, but as the plane soared through the air, Yuuri found he simply didn’t care. It was like the time Victor took him to the dog breeder. Whatever surprise awaited him, Yuuri trusted he would enjoy it.

They retired to the tiny bedroom, sharing a few soft kisses before drowsing to sleep in each others’ arms. There were no bad dreams. 

Yuuri was still drowsy when the plane began its descent. His eyes sharpened as he stepped off the plane, seeing an achingly familiar airport terminal. “Victor- we’re-”

“Is this okay?” Victor asked. “We can go somewhere else if you want, it’s not too late-”

“No… this is fine. This is… too much,” Yuuri whispered. He looked around him. The kanji and kana printed on the signs looked like old, long-forgotten friends. Yuuri’s eyes welled up with tears. “Victor…”

“Hasetsu, right?” Victor murmured. “The train is this way.”

They took their bags, and Yuuri felt his chest grow tighter and tighter as the train whisked them away. “I haven’t been back in years, I don’t even know what to expect…”

“You deserve to say a proper goodbye,” Victor murmured. He kissed Yuuri’s hair. “I want to give you that chance.”

“Thank you,” Yuuri said. He let his head fall into Victor’s shoulder, his mind a whirlwind of motion and thought. “I don’t think I could do this alone. I’m… actually really glad you’re here, you know.”

Victor rubbed Yuuri’s shoulder. “I know it’s hard for you to admit that. I’m always here, though. My Yuuri… my love…”

Yuuri stared off into space as the train arrived at the platform. Hasetsu was bigger than Yuuri remembered. The damaged train platform was restored, better than ever, with shiny new fixtures and features. Yuuri turned a slow circle, taking it all in. 

“It’s so different now,” Yuuri said. “I almost don’t recognize it…” 

He reached for Victor’s hand, and they walked out into the street. His chest tightened more and more the closer he got. “Victor… I’m scared,” Yuuri said. “The last time I saw it… there was nothing but rubble. What if it’s the same? What if-”

“No one would leave it like that.”

Yuuri hummed. “Minako… should wouldn’t leave it like that,” he said softly. “We should say hello…”

“Minako?” Victor asked. 

“An old family friend,” Yuuri said. “She was with me when… when everything went wrong.”

They walked in silence. The street curved slightly, and the plot drew into sight. The last onsen in Hasetsu. 

The building was gone, but the springs remained, carefully manicured and styled into a garden-like feature. In the middle of the garden, a small memorial stood, built up into a little shrine for the lost. 

Yuuri broke into shaky sobs, falling to his knees. Victor knelt beside him. 

Everything had been lost that day. Yuuri’s direction in life, his faith in himself, his inner strength, his will to go on. The first crack had cut him deep. 

If not for this, perhaps things would have turned out differently. Perhaps Bradley never would have worked his way into Yuuri’s heart and fractured that break open wider. Perhaps Rebecca wouldn’t have been able to chisel open new fissures. Perhaps Yuuri wouldn’t have become a broken shell, a forgotten, crumpled piece of paper sodden by the rain. 

Yuuri wiped away his tears. Victor rubbed small circles on his back. Yuuri stood and approached the shrine, kneeling before it. A Sagan Tosu Jersey was left on the edge, an origami fox, and a charm that looked like a tiny onsen. A stick of incense was unlit, and Yuuri looked back at Victor. He offered a lighter to Yuuri. 

Yuuri lit it, watching a curl of smoke rise into the skies. His head bowed.

Mom, Dad, Mari… all the others who were lost… the ones who didn’t make it when the surging tides came in. Would they be proud of the thing Yuuri had become?

Yuuri let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. They were the past. And though Yuuri would carry them forever in his heart, he couldn’t let the past stop him. 

He had to look ahead, or the tides would take him too. He’d almost drowned under the past once. Not again, never again. 

He stood, looking toward Victor with sorrowful eyes. Victor pressed a kiss to Yuuri’s cheek. Yuuri stepped aside, but to his surprise, Victor knelt beside the shrine as well. 

“Thank you for giving Yuuri the life he lived, thank you for teaching him how to be stubborn and strong and beautiful, no matter how hard things got. Your Yuuri is amazing. He loves you a lot, and I just… wanted to thank you for the love and support you gave him. 

“Other parents… they don’t give their children the things you did. They don’t give love. But… even without meeting you… I know you were good people. I know you meant something to this town. I would have liked to meet you.” 

Victor bowed his head, taking a moment of silence. He stood up, and offered Yuuri his hand. “Life and death are inevitable,” Yuuri murmured. “It’s natural. But… between you and me, I think they would have liked you a lot, if they were still alive. Thank you for bringing me here.”

“Any time,” Victor vowed. “Do you want to see your friend? Minako?”

Yuuri nodded. They walked silently through the streets. Yuuri couldn’t help but take in the sights, all the things that had changed. The world was so different here, some things the same as they were, some things completely new. The old bar was still there, the dance studio. Yuuri knocked on Minako’s door, desperately hoping she’d answer. 

The door swung open slowly. She emerged, hair a little mussed, but her eyes bright and wide as she spotted Yuuri outside the door. She looked like she had seen a ghost. 

“Yuuri…”

Yuuri bashfully stepped forward, not quite looking her in the eye. “Hi, Minako. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Suddenly he was crushed in a hug. The soft smell of perfume surrounded him. “Yuuri… I thought you were never going to come back here.”

“I couldn’t, for a while. But I’m here now. At least for a bit.” She looked from Yuuri to Victor. “Who is this? Come on in, we can catch up inside.” 

As they walked in, Yuuri started to talk. “This is Victor, my-” he broke off, turning to Victor. 

Victor smiled, lacing his fingers with Yuuri. “I’m Yuuri’s other half. I’ve been coaching him in dance for the last few months. I thought I would surprise him with a trip home. Victor Nikiforov, nice to meet you.” Victor offered his free hand to Minako. 

She stared at him. “You’re Victor Nikiforov.”

Victor’s smile was a bit bland. Yuuri could see ballet memorabilia scattered around the living room, the way Victor was adding it all up in his mind. “Yes, I know, I’m _ that _Victor Nikiforov-”

She started to laugh. Victor blinked, clearly thrown, and Yuuri let out a startled laugh if his own. “I know, I know,” Yuuri murmured, fighting back a smile. “Life is… just funny sometimes.”

“I don’t get it?” Victor said. He blinked a few times, looking between Yuuri and Minako, lost. 

Yuuri looked toward the photo of him and Minako framed on a nearby table. It showed him and Minako outside a St Petersburg theater, bundled up against the cold. “As a child… I dreamed of dancing just like you. I fell in love the first time I saw you. Minako had taken me to a Russian ballet, and there you were.”

“Imagine my surprise when I see Yuuri’s childhood crush outside the door,” Minako said wryly. “Back from the dead, and living the life. Were you ever going to even call?”

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri said. “The last few years, I just… I don’t know what I was doing with myself. I lost all sense of direction. But I know what I want now. I know what I need to do. And it’s all thanks to Victor.”

They chatted for a long time, until the hour grew late and the evening drew in. “You’re welcome to stay the night,” Minako said. “There isn’t too much in the way of hotels here, and you must be tired after traveling so far.”

Yuuri felt more rested than usual after the luxury flight, but even still, exhaustion cling to his bones. “Thank you.”

…

**October 3rd, 2019**

They boarded the plane at last. “I can’t wait to see Makkachin again,” Victor crooned. “Ah, I miss our precious darling, I wish we could have brought her along.”

“Next time, we can,” Yuuri said. “It was nice to see Minako again…”

The flight was leisurely, and Victor and Yuuri spent most of the time cuddled up together, reminiscing about the things they had seen. Victor seemed particularly taken with the ninja house. 

They checked in at the customs in New York. They spent a few days seeing shows and eating fine cuisine. Victor seemed intent on spoiling Yuuri within an inch of his life on the way back. After several days of bliss, they would be homeward bound. 

They boarded the plane, but the pilot was nowhere to be seen. “Wait, Victor, how will we get back?” Yuuri asked. Victor only smiled smugly, taking the pilot’s seat for himself. “I had a lot of free time before you came into my life, Yuuri. I do have a pilot’s license. Very handy when I don’t want people to know where I’m going.”

Yuuri stared. “Victor, where are we going?” 

Victor adopted a fake innocent expression. He flicked a few switches, and the plane rumbled to life. “I was thinking of taking a quick pit stop in Cincinnati. I have something I need to ‘take care of’ there. Care to join me?”

Yuuri slowly grinned. “I would love to.” Victor reached for a few more switches and knobs, studying the myriad of gauges with a steady eye. “You’re sure you know how to fly this thing?”

Victor scoffed. “I could fly this in my sleep. Next stop, Ohio. Buckle up, it’ll be a couple hours.”

They took off, steadier than Yuuri expected. He watched the scenery pass by in front of them. The cockpit offered a view unlike any Yuuri had seen before. Victor took them to an almost invisible landing strip beside a piece of deserted farmland. 

“Part of the reason the vacation took so long to set up was because of this,” Victor admitted, once they were safely on the ground. “I know a guy who is willing to let me park the plane here for about 24 hours. That doesn’t give us much time, but I don’t think you want to wait, do you?”

It settled in Yuuri’s bones with a kind of nervous energy. He nodded. He couldn’t back out.

“I trust you to help me,” Yuuri said softly. “Show me how to do it.”

Victor grinned. “Let’s rest for a bit before we get started, and then we’ll take a look at our target’s social media page to see if we can find out where she is right now?”

Yuuri nodded. They slept off the long flight in the cozy little bedroom, awakening to early evening. Victor held his phone up.

“We got her. Leave the capture to me. This will be easy.”

* * *

**October 8th, 2019**

She was bound, blindfolded, and gagged in a lowly lit room. There were no windows and only a single door. It looked like a warehouse from outside, isolated and distant from civilization. Inside, it was blanketed in tarps and nearly empty. 

Victor circled her, watching her flinch and scream into the gag. “You see, my love? She’s ours now.”

Yuuri studied her in wonder. “Ours… She’ll never see another day.” She started screaming louder into the gag. Victor looked at her disdainfully. He passed Yuuri a blade, clearly made for stabbing and ripping.

Rebecca was flailing so much, so alive, so raw with fear. Could he do this? It drew him up short. Severing a life. Firing a gun in the heat of the moment was one thing, but this…? His nerves rattled him, almost completely shot. 

“I don’t know…” he whispered. She must have heard his hesitation, because pleas filled the gag. Pathetic, disgusting. 

“I won’t make you,” Victor murmured. He stepped close to Yuuri’s side, peppering his hair with kisses and letting his hands slide along Yuuri’s hips. “You don’t have to take this step with me. I won’t think any less of you, and it isn’t like she’s seen our faces anyway.”

“But she’s heard our voices,” Yuuri murmured. 

“Hmm, true,” Victor said. 

Yuuri tipped his head back for a kiss. Victor was more than happy to deliver, stealing Yuuri’s lips for a few brief seconds. Victor’s fingers dug into Yuuri’s sides, pulsing with desire. 

“You can step out if you wish. I can finish the job-”

“No,” Yuuri said harshly. He was surprised by the wave of frustration that ripped through him, the streak of stubborn defiance that had him clenching his fingers tighter to the knife. “She’s my kill.” 

Victor let out a low, weak groan. “Oh, my beautiful, precious beloved. It makes my knees weak to hear you say that…” Rubbing against Yuuri’s back was a prominent bulge— Victor’s cock, hard in his trousers. Yuuri bit his lip. 

“Does that turn you on?” Yuuri murmured. Rebecca’s baffled whimpers filled the air. Yuuri ignored then, stroking up the side of Victor’s face with his free hand. “Me holding the knife?” He held it aloft where Victor could see. 

“Mmm, so very much so, yes,” Victor said. “I want to see it… I know you can do it.” Victor’s hand slipped down the back of Yuuri’s trousers, between the cheeks, rubbing against Yuuri’s entrance. Yuuri muffled a groan into the back of his hand. 

“Aah-” he gasped, his breath shaky. His own cock stirred, taking great interest in the way Victor toyed with him. 

“Just think of how it’ll feel when you plunge the knife in…” Victor said. His fingers circled the rim. Yuuri had stretched himself out while Victor was on the hunt, and he noted the surprise in Victor’s voice when he felt the first hint of lube. “Oh, what’s this?”

“I was too excited…” Yuuri whispered. His knees threatened to collapse underneath him as Victor’s forefinger dipped inside. “Aaah-!” 

Victor kissed Yuuri’s cheek, dragging his fingers in and out slowly, fucking Yuuri on his fingers. “The things you do to me… I want to flip you over and fuck you right here…”

Yuuri felt his nerves steady out. Victor wanted him. _ Desired him_. Wanted to give Yuuri everything in the world. And Yuuri wanted only one thing right now— to feel the raw, crystalline euphoria of that moment of death one more time. 

Victor’s fingers pulled out of him, and Yuuri took a step closer to the sniveling, pathetic creature in front of him. “You made me so miserable,” Yuuri said softly. “I was at my lowest point, and you just kept kicking me when I was down. I respect you for that. You never held back.”

Her whimpers turned questioning. He could see the thoughts forming, wondering who he was. 

“Maybe it was smart for you to leave. To try and run from the things you did. But it’s a cycle you’ll just continue, isn’t it? Use, abuse, and find a new troupe to dance for. I don’t like that. Which is why…” Yuuri said lightly, stepping around her. 

Victor sucked in an eager breath. Yuuri looked to him, to the spellbound way his eyes traced over Yuuri’s body. Yuuri felt powerful. He felt _ beautiful. _The knife was heavy in his palms, but he held it tighter. Eyes open, breath still. He plunged the knife into her chest. 

It was an awkward, fumbling kind of thing, and the knife didn’t sink in nicely. Yuuri yanked it out and stabbed again, again, letting his fury out in a cathartic release. Blood sprayed around him. Victor let out a visceral moan of desire. He reached around Yuuri, clasping their hands together on the knife. 

“May I?” he whispered, voice colored with excitement. His eyes were glittering. Yuuri nodded, and together they delivered one last blow. She went still. “Fuck,” Victor gasped, and suddenly Yuuri was turned around, his shirt ripped over his head. 

Victor was kissing him frantically, and Yuuri let out a breathless moan, losing himself to the pleasure bubbling inside him. 

They collapsed into a heap on the floor as blood poured around them. It was hot, boiling on Yuuri’s skin as it flowed around them. Yuuri let out a helpless, shaky moan. 

He was so powerful. He was so strong. He had snuffed her out like a candle, and all that remained was him and Victor, Victor and Yuuri. Yuuri ripped Victor’s pants down, spreading his legs to make room for Victor between. 

Victor plunged inside with a single thrust, bottoming out hard enough to make Yuuri see stars. Yuuri screamed in bliss, in righteous fury. She was dead, and he was alive, so _ alive, _like a star burning bright and powerful in the night sky. 

“Mine, mine, my Yuuri,” Victor rasped into Yuuri’s ear, fucking frantically. His pace was almost animalistic, starving for Yuuri in a carnal way. Yuuri let out another cry, hooking his thighs around Victor’s waist and aching for more. 

“Fuck me, ah, Victor, mine, mine, mine,” he gasped. His fingers turned to claws down Victor’s naked back, clawing furrows into the soft skin. His toes curled as Victor nailed that spot inside him. 

They made love on the floor. Blood clung to Victor’s hair, to his skin, streaking and smearing in brilliant streams of scarlet life. Vitality flowed from the body and stained their skin. Mixing with the precum and and sweat that spilled out of them. 

Victor’s fat cock plunged inside, plundering its way through Yuuri’s body in total abandon, and Yuuri was lost, screaming louder, louder, his pleasure loud enough for the world to hear. 

Yuuri’s head fell back. Victor kissed his collarbone, sucking harsh, bruising kisses over his chest, closer and closer to his throat, but never crossing the line. 

Yuuri let out a feral scream. His fingers tangled through Victor’s hair, dragging his kisses up, up, until they settled on the crook of his throat. Yuuri screamed louder. Everything went black. 

Yuuri could feel Victor’s cock twitching and pulsing inside him, filling him full of Victor’s seed. A wild fantasy filled his mind— of being pregnant with Victor’s children, of Victor’s semen overcoming all logic and biology and knocking Yuuri up. 

He let out a shaky laugh, barely conscious of his own release painting his bloody stomach pink. Wouldn’t that be funny? Wouldn’t it be grand?

Victor huffed and panted as he pulled out, sinking down to lay beside Yuuri. They kissed, at first frantic, then slowing to a more leisurely makeout session as the blood on their skin cooled. 

“So sexy,” Victor panted. “I couldn’t take it any more. Seeing you kill Bradley and being unable to do anything about it… it was so incredibly infuriating. You have no idea how turned on I was, seeing you covered in blood. You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Am I?” Yuuri murmured. He smiled to himself. He could still feel Victor’s bruising kiss on his throat. Victor’s fingers traced up toward the mark, and Yuuri flinched. 

“Sorry,” Victor said quickly, pulling his fingers back. 

Yuuri took his hand, kissing the tips of the offending fingers. “It’s okay. We can work on it. We have all the time in the world.”

“We do,” Victor agreed. He stroked Yuuri’s face. “You look so beautiful, covered in blood like this.”

“So do you,” Yuuri said. He kissed Victor on his cheekbone. “Is blood always so… pretty and red?”

“When it’s fresh. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Does it hurt, being stabbed?” Yuuri asked idly. It made Victor pause, his eyes showing the way his mind raced. “What did it feel like when you had that knife inside you?”

“It’s excruciating. But at the same time, it’s bliss. Pain and pleasure, if held by the right hand. Why? Planning on stabbing me again?”

“I was just wondering… what would it feel like, your knife in me… and your cock inside me too… would you be able to touch my neck, then, I wonder?”

Victor growled, pinning Yuuri down and kissing him hard, splaying Yuuri’s legs apart. “I need to fuck you. _ Now _.”

Yuuri laughed. “And if I said no?”

Victor sat back, sulking. “My Yuuri likes to tease me.”

Yuuri leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead, taking Victor’s hands in his own. “I do. But I’m only teasing. Is this already hard again?” Yuuri murmured, stroking Victor’s cock in his hands. It was making a valiant attempt at stiffening again. 

“Mmm, trying,” Victor murmured. He kissed Yuuri slowly, humming in pleasure as Yuuri continued to stroke him back to hardness. 

Yuuri smiled. “Good, I want you to make love to me again.” Victor splayed Yuuri’s thighs apart, peppering them in kisses and sliding his cock into the mess between Yuuri’s legs. It was so wet and slick that Victor’s cock pressed right in, easy as a dream. 

Yuuri hummed softly, crying out when Victor settled fully inside. Victor fucked him slowly, their lips never parting except to suck down gasping breaths. His hips moved slowly, working Yuuri’s body over. 

“Paint you with pretty red lines,” Victor murmured. His fingers traced over Yuuri’s skin. “The slight sting of the blade. Then the burn of antiseptic on them, and a kiss when I bandage them up. Would you like that? Would you like me to take care of you while you sit on my cock?”

Yuuri whined, stroking his cock furiously as Victor continued to fuck him. His words were the cruelest tease. “Yes… Victor… aaah…” 

They finished with a lingering kiss. At last, they laid back. The blood was cooling around them. Yuuri drew circles in the blood, painting tiny designs onto Victor’s arms and chest with it. The stark contrasting colors looked achingly lovely. 

“So what now?” Yuuri asked. 

“Well, I teach you how to clean this all up,” Victor said. “Less fun than the actual act. And then… then we go home. We have our whole lives ahead of us. We can do whatever we like.”

“Whatever we like…” Yuuri murmured. He smiled st Victor. “I can’t wait to see it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so much to everyone who has shown this story so much faith and love and trust over the course of this month! I appreciate you all so much and I sincerely hope this fic satisfied you <3

**Author's Note:**

> If you want a say in my monthly NSFW fics, follow updates on my other fics, or just wanna say hi, come find me on twitter for more! https://twitter.com/AurumAuri14


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